The Son of Salazar
by AlexisJames92
Summary: Another "Harry goes back in time" fic. What happens when a five-year-old randomly apparates into the newly constructed Hogwarts, horribly beaten and dying? He is found and raised by a surprisingly gentle Salazar, until he one day returns to his proper time...only he's seventeen years older than he was when he left. Either Snarry or Harrymort...you decide. BOTH SEQUELS UP!
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys! Okay, so this is an idea that popped into my head while I was gorging myself on Jelly Beans, I was thinking what it would be like for Harry to go back in time and see the Berty Box Every Flavored Bean invented. Then I thought that it would be cool for him to go beck** ** _even further_** **to the Founder's Era! And then I thought that him going back to the Marauder Era would be awesome, because he could meet Snape and Sirius and all them while he was their age. And THEN I thought that it would be interesting to see the actual Cannon time from Harry's POV as an adult….so that got me thinking….**

 **Anyway, I hope you enjoy this and I will be updating this a tad less frequently than "The Enigma of Uncle Mort" as well as "Eleven-Teen Again", though I bit more frequently than "The Guardian Angel" (BTW If yall would be really nice to me and go check out those stories, I'd be super happyz!) And anyway, I haven't decided if this should be a Snarry or Harrymort, so leave your preferences in the reviews! You've got about until chapter 5 or so (I think) for me to decide on what the Shipping will be…however I won't do threesomes. They can be interesting but I don't really feel like writing one.**

 **WARNING: CHILD ABUSE IN THIS CHAPTER! (Will put *666* at the place where child abuse starts and ends, just in case you want to skip past it. Thank you)**

 **May the gods be ever in your favor!**

It had been a normal day for Freak so far. He'd woken up to the sound of Aunt Tuney banging on his cupboard door. "Freak! Get up! Get up! We're late, you stupid boy. Why didn't you wake us up?" Freak rubbed the sleep from his eyes, hurriedly tossing his worn little blanket away from where it was tangled around his legs. He squinted around him, everything was still fuzzy, his eyes have been weird for the last week or so, ever since Uncle Vernon had thrown him through that window. His eyes had bled for a while, then, a spark of green magic later, his eyes felt fine, but he couldn't see as well.

"Freak!" came a different, more masculine voice. "Haven't you started breakfast yet? I have to leave in twenty minutes, you lazy brat!" Freak flinched and tumbled out of his cupboard, which had been unlocked minutes ago by Aunt Tuney. Freak got up, ignoring that he had ouchies up and down his small body. His back hurt, but he made his way to the kitchen anyway.

"Yes, Aunt Tuney?" Freak asked politely. Petunia was clanging around the kitchen, practically tossing a mixing bowl onto the counter, closely followed by ingredients from out of the pantry.

"Mix up batter for pancakes, be quick about it. I want Vernon's breakfast on the table within ten minutes so he has time to eat," she told the five-year-old briskly. "Plenty of time."

"Yes, ma'am," Freak said meekly, pulling a stool over and stepping on top of it. He added in the eggs to the powder Petunia always had him use to make the batter. He carefully measured out the milk and poured it in before stirring. As he did so, he poured a small amount of oil into a pan then began to make the first pancake.

He heard his cousin getting ready for the day. Or, rather, Aunt Petunia trying to get his cousin ready for the day. "Please put your shirt on, Diddydums. You can't go to the park in your jammies!"

"I-I-I-I d-d-don't w-want to g-go to the p-p-p-park!" Dudley wailed, heaving obviously fake sobs. Freak rolled his eyes, putting a completed pancake onto a plate before sliding it into the microwave to keep it warm.

"Please? Pretty please? Do it for mummy?"

"NO!"

Five pancakes later, Vernon came back into the kitchen. He took the entire plate from the microwave without a word of thanks before heading into the dining room. Out of the corner of his eyes, Freak blurrily watched Vernon douse his pancakes in syrup. "Make them bigger next time!" he ordered Freak, who didn't bother answering; he might just get himself in trouble.

 _Tap tap tap_

Freak turned to the window, and was surprised to see some kind of bird. He flipped the pancake he was working on, then slowly slid over to the window, hopping of his stool. He squinted out the window. It was big, and brown. That much he could tell, but other than that, he couldn't tell what it was. Maybe some kind of hawk…but why would a hawk be tapping at his window?

Freak shrugged it off, birds sometimes brought him things every now and then. Usually they were letters to someone named Harry. Sometimes they had other things, like food or candy or small toys. Sometimes a pouch of shiny coins.

He opened the window, and it soared in, dropped something, then flew away with a screech. Freak frowned, then picked up the piece of paper. An envelope. It was sealed with something that felt a bit like remolded crayon. It had markings on it, but he couldn't make it out. Freak opened the envelope, but he couldn't read it, no matter how much he squinted. And it wasn't like he was that great at reading anyway. His kindergarten teacher always ignored him, the Dursley's made sure of that. But then something else fell out of the envelope with a loud clatter.

"What was that?" Vernon demanded from the other room. "I swear, freak, if you've broken anything—"

"I dropped a spoon Uncle Vernon. Everything's fine. Just making more pancakes!" Freak called back, remembering about the pancake on the stove. He took it off quickly, breathing a sigh of relief when he found it wasn't burned. He put more batter on, then picked up the thing that had fallen out. It was a circular thing, attached to a chain. It was beautiful. The chain was some kind of metal, but whiter than silver, and shinier than any jewelry Freak had ever seen. The amulet had a clock face on the center. There were jewels all around it, in flower-like design. The metal was pure white, with green jewels making leaves and purple gems and golden flakes making the flowers. Freak caressed it lovingly. He'd never held anything so…so _magical._ It practically glowed. When he held it up to his ear, he found it was humming. Freak smiled softly, imagining that it was singing in a tiny little voice.

Just as he lifted it over his head, tucking it under his oversized shirt, after he'd trashed the letter so his Aunt and Uncle wouldn't be able to find it, Aunt Petunia came in, screaming. "IT'S BURNING YOU IDIOT!" Freak jumped. Oh, no. he'd forgotten about the food. "You useless waste of space!"

"What's going on?" Vernon asked gruffly as he came into the kitchen. His face turned from the normal, bland red to a bursting purple. "WASTING FOOD, ARE YOU?" he demanded with a bellow. "THOUGHT MAYBE WE'D GIVE IT TO YOU IF YOU DID? WELL, YOU'VE GOT ANTHER THING COMING, FREAK!" Vernon grabbed Freak by his overly long hair and dragged him out of the kitchen.

 ***666***

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he whimpered helplessly. Not that it made any difference. Vernon took him into the living room, where the was more space. He shut the curtains before turning and growling viciously. But he didn't say anything. He only walked out the backdoor. Freak didn't dare move. He only stayed there, trembling in fear of what was to come. He knew Vernon would come back, and then he would be punished. Freak wanted to hold onto his new necklace for comfort, but he didn't dare do it. It would only be taken from him if he was seen with it.

A few moments later, the door slammed and Vernon came in.

He was holding what Freak recognized as a leg that had fallen off of one of their neighbor's wooden chairs. They'd been planning on throwing it out, but Vernon had asked them if they minded him using it for firewood for their backyard fire pit. They'd given it to him without a second thought. It had been sitting out back for the last couple of days. Freak was afraid of what Vernon was going to do with it, now.

Without warning, Vernon swung the chair leg, bringing it it down hard on the side of Freak's ribcage. He cried out in pain. "Shut it," Vernon said, his voice dangerously low, his eyes glinting as he brought it down on Freak's back. Then his legs, his back again, his stomach. The beating went on, Freak was coughing up blood. Some was dripping from a cut into his eyes, blinding him completely. He couldn't think, the pain was clouding his mind. Somehow, he'd ended up on his back, staring up helplessly at his Uncle. He wanted this to stop. He wanted his parents. The people he'd never known…surly they loved him.

He cried, tears streaming out of his blind eyes as the wood came down again, breaking one of his legs. He wanted his real daddy. He wanted to be loved. Why did no one love him? He wished, wished with all of his heart that he would be saved by someone who loved him. Surly he had family somewhere! He wanted them. He wanted to leave, bad.

 ***666***

Then, he felt weightless, like he was being picked up and help by an invisible man. "Stop it!" he heard his uncle cry, somewhere in the background. As though a harsh wind was between them. But Freak didn't feel any wind. "Stop!" Freak felt Vernon hit his chest hard. Something came a loud _crack_. Something that wasn't a part of his body. Freak smiled.

And then he was gone.

***1047***

Salazar Slytherin had been a relatively good day. He and Godric had been successful in convincing another three children to leave their Mundane families behind come fall, to attend their school. Hogwarts, Godric and Helga had decided to call it. Salazar snorted. It was ridiculous, really, but once those two decided on something there was no changing their minds. Salazar smiled fondly at the thought of his 'siblings'.

After that, he'd had a nice meal, curtesy of the house elves, while discussing the lesson plans with his co-Founders. They would need to hire more people eventually, as the number of students grew. But right now, they would only have around three dozen at the start of the school year. The youngest being eight, the oldest being sixteen—practically adults. Salazar himself was still a relatively young man: only twenty-four. Even though he really should have been married about a year or two ago, according to Rowena. She was pressuring him into marrying a sorceress who was almost seven years his junior…and he _really_ didn't want to.

"There is always blood-adoption, my brother," his best friend, Godric, had suggested. "I may. Though I'd still want to wed a worthy wife, one day." Salazar had seriously considered this option. He enjoyed the company of children, there was no denying it. Even though it hardly went with the stony picture he'd tried to pain of himself in recent years. Everyone knew he had a soft spot when it came to children.

However, he wouldn't share his blood with any child. No, this child had to be exceptional. But he hadn't found one yet. And he'd been looking, he really had. None of the students coming in had enough potential. Sure, a few of them were gifted. A good many were intelligent. But none of them had that ceratin… _power_ he was looking for in an heir. Perhaps he had set his bar too high?

A loud _crack_ , not unsimilar to that of apparition, echoed through the hall. Salazar sighed before turning around, thinking it was Godric. After he'd told his friend that he'd be putting up anti-apparition wards around the castle, his friend had made a point of apparating as much as possible.

But when he looked, it was a child. A boy or a girl he couldn't tell. But they were wounded. Badly bloodied. Several, if not all of his limbs broken or at least fractured. He was trembling, shaking in fear or pain, Salazar didn't know. Didn't care. All that matter, was that a child, a _magical child_ , was dying.

"HELGA" Salazar roared at the top of his lungs as he raced to the child. He scooped them up, whispering softly. "There, there, rest young one. I'll not let them harm you again. Hush now. There, there." The child, he was tiny. Salazar guessed him to only be three years old, perhaps a few months more. He was frail, several of his ribs were broken, protruding out of his skin. He was too skinny. This babe had been starved.

Memories flashed before Salazar, of when his own father had locked him up, chained him, called in priests and monks to beat the 'evil' the 'devil' out of him. They starved him, treated him like a rabid dog. It was only his mother, who'd beg for his father to spare his life, that made it possible for him to escape. It was the very same night he'd met Godric. Godric, who had nursed his wounds, who had been raised by a third generation wizard and a sixth generation witch.

He was brought back to the present by a soft whimper from the babe in his arms, and the thunder of footsteps. "Salazar!" Helga called out to him, worry in her voice.

Salazar kissed a clean patch of skin on the otherwise bloody face. "Rest my young one. It's alright, I swear to you. Keep your eyes closed, the pain will soon leave, child." He looked up to see Helga and Rowena turn the corner.

"What's wrong?" Rowena asked, before gasping at the sight of the tiny, broken body. "For the love of all things holy…"

"Can you heal him?" Salazar asked Helga, almost desperately.

She hesitated before nodding. "If we hurry."


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow, oh wow oh wow. 21 favs and 50 followers? I've only just now posted the second chapter, and the first has only been up for a few days! Holy cow! I LOVE YOU GUYS! It's because of the reviews, mainly, that have prompted me to write this now. I was going to put it off, since I view my other Harry Potter fic as more of a priority, but since this is getting more attention, I think I might change that. Reviews are important to me! I get sad when no one says anything, *sniff sniff* please tell me what you think!**

 **NatNicole: It'd be totally cool if you borrowed my idea! I love inspiring people! Just be sure to tell me what the title is so I can read it! I'm not going to be skipping to when he travels back (forward) in time right away, there's too much to only put in with flashbacks, though I will definitely have some of those later on.**

 **Hwyla and SlytherinHawkins105: I am leaning more towards Snarry, thank you for your reviews, you made my decision a lot easier. Though I'm hoping more people will give their opinion. I mean, Sirius is still alive at this point, maybe it can be a Sirius/Harry fic. Or even Lucius/Harry. Wouldn't that be epic? Anyway, leave reviews!**

 **To the other lovelies: Thank you so much! I'm glad you like it!**

 **May the gods be ever in your favor**

 **-James**

Freak was sure that Vernon had finally killed him. He was surrounded by so much white, but it wasn't blinding, it was comforting. Plus, he was laying on what he was sure must have been a cloud, with a smaller cloud under his head. A fluffy white comforter made out of what _must be_ angel feathers covered him. This must be heaven, he realized. He smiled. Maybe his mommy and daddy was here? If he wasn't so comfy where he was, he'd have jumped right up and gone running in search of them. But as it was, he felt better than he ever had.

He _must_ be dead, because he didn't hurt anywhere. In fact, he hadn't **not** hurt like this in a long time. He was a little hungry, but he'd heard the Dursley's talking about eating in heaven, so Freak wasn't overly worried about that. But, he could SEE! His eyes were fixed! Further evidence that he was dead. After all, surly you didn't have to deal with stupid things like broken eyes in heaven. He was so warm, he snuggled up under his blankets. Maybe he'd ask a nice angel for some ice cream later. He'd never had any, but he'd seen Dudley eat some. He was certain that they had something that yummy in heaven.

"Are you well now, young one? Is there pain anywhere?" asked a kind voice. Freak froze, an irrational fear coming over him. _What if they kicked him out!_ Then Freak decided he'd be as polite as possible, so they wouldn't even THINK about it. Freak sat up at once, sending a smile at the man who was walking closer. The man was handsome. He was tall, with long black hair tied back in a long braid that swished back and forth as he walked. His face was long and slightly gaunt, but not unpleasantly so. His skin looked like it might once have been tan, but was pale from many long hours indoors. His eyes were large and deep set, the color was a startling dark blue, almost violet. He wasn't smiling, but he wasn't frowning either. Freak straightened, thinking that this was a man who respected well-behaved "proper people" as Petunia would say.

"No, sir," he said. "I'm fine."

***1047***

(Several minutes before)

Helga was bustling about the medward, organizing potions that the child would need upon waking. Salazar was watching the boy as he slept. Godric had cooed over how "adorable" the boy was, before dragging Rowena out of the medward to show her a new trick he'd learned on that infernal broom of his. Salazar shook his head, remembering his best friend's antics. At first, he'd been upset that Godric had brushed off the babe's injuries so quickly, but had soon realized that Godric only meant that he had absolute faith in Helga and Salazar's abilities. He had no doubt the babe would soon be up and running about with him soon.

If only Salazar was that certain. It had been nearly three days, and the little one was yet to wake up. The reason for it made Salazar's blood boil. Helga had burst into tears at her revelations after scanning the child—who he'd secretly taken to calling Little Snake in the privacy of his own mind—and it had taken a good while to calm her down enough for her to even tell Salazar what was wrong.

And once she did, he wanted to find whoever had harmed this beautiful child, and turn their filthy Mundane bodies inside out. The boy had been starved, possibly since he was very, very young. An infant, even. He had been beaten horribly, and there was no chance that it was simply an accident. There was damage to the eyes, his internal organs, his windpipe. The boy was dehydrated as well as malnourished. Many, many bones were either fractured or shattered—no clean breaks. There was bruising and bleeding inside and out. And to make matters even worse…there were magical blocks on the boy's core.

"It wasn't just the Mundanes," Helga has whispered, horrified. "A wizard had a hand in the babe's torture. If it weren't for his own magical proficiency, despite the blocks, he'd have died a long, long time ago. It seems like he'd tried to heal his eyes, but they didn't correct themselves fully. Attached themselves in the wrong areas, but at least he didn't fully lose his sight. Same for old wounds and breaks, almost fully healed, but not done quite right. Not that you can blame the boy, just that he can manage what he has with the blocks and, no doubt, without any education or instruction…He'll be a force to be reckoned with one day."

His poor Little Snake. Helga had fixed him best he could, but some of the scarring would never fully fade, and Helga said she feared the boy would never be as tall as he should have been, had he been raised in a loving home. It was as soon as Helga had said that, that Salazar had vowed that, perhaps his Little Snake hadn't been cared for, but he would be from here on out. He would take Godric's advice, and raise him as his own. After all, so much magical potential in one so young. Not to mention, Salazar had respect for the boy, having survived the Mundanes for as long as he had. Slytherin knew from experience that it wasn't an easy feat.

Helga had gone down to the greenhouses to find herbs for a potion she was brewing to help with nightmares the Little Snake was sure to have, after going through such trauma. Salazar was certain the boy had accidently apparated, no small amount of magic involved there, while escaping from his tormentors. Salazar heard a crash in the hallway, thinking that Helga had dropped something, he hurried out to help her.

Of course, it wasn't her, though. It was Godric, the insufferable idiot. Salazar bit back a grin, choosing instead to scowl deeply. Gryffindor had been flying his broom—through the hall no less—and had managed to hang himself from a chandelier while his broom crashed through one of the windows. "Hullo Sally!" Godric smiled brightly. "A little help, brother?"

"You need far more than a 'little help', _brother_ ," Salazar rolled his eyes, ignoring the nickname. " _Accio_ _idiot's broom_ ," Godric looked a little miffed when the broom actually sailed back through the window and landed neatly in Salazar's hand. Slytherin than waved his wand, vanishing the broom back to Godric's quarters, then cleaning up the mess his brother had made, repairing the windows, before levitating Godric back to the (relative) safety of the floor.

"Many thanks" said Godric cheerily.

"Imbecile" Salazar sneered, he was about to say something else, when a ward being triggered made his wand buzz warm in his grip. Little Snake was waking up. "Stay out of trouble, Godric," he said in parting before turning and quietly opening the door.

The little boy was looking around in awe, a look of supreme contentment and happiness on his face. It made Salazar's heart (which Godric would be glad to inform anyone was nonexistent) melt a little. His eyes, which Salazar had gotten a brief glance of when Helga was healing them, took his breath away. The most stunning shade of vivid, yet ghostly, green he had ever seen. They seemed to just crackle with energy unspoken. His long, raven locks, which had been cleaned and groomed by a loving Helga, were silky and falling in thick strands nearly to his shoulders. His skin was pale, his face thin and heart-shaped. He truly was a beautiful boy.

Little Snake smiled to himself, then sank back down onto his pillow, closing his eyes, letting out a soft sigh. "Are you well now, young one? Is there pain anywhere?" Salazar found himself asking before it even registered.

The boy froze, and for a moment, fear slid into his large eyes. Then he relaxed and sat up without a sigh of pain, which Salazar was glad for. "No, sir." Little Snake said, his voice soft, almost musical in an innocent, childish way "I'm fine." Salazar drew nearer, then shrugging of any awkwardness, he sat at the edge of the boy's bed.

"Do you know how you came to be at this school?" Salazar asked. He was confused as the boy seemed to look disappointed at this.

"School?" The boy was frowning. Was he going to cry. Salazar put a hand on the child's head, stroking his fingers through the soft hair.

"Yes," Salazar said kindly. "Hogwarts. I and my family built it for children just like you." This brought a smile back to the boy's face. "You _are_ aware that you are a wizard? Of magic?"

The boy frowned once more. "Uncle said I'm not supposed to say that word. He said it's evil." Salazar bristled at this, but quickly relaxed when he saw Little Snake was fearful of him.

"It's alright," Salazar said. "Your uncle is the evil one. Magic is wonderful, one of the most pure things on this earth." Salazar held his wand out to the boy, tapping the sheets that covered the small lap. The boy's eyes grew wide as Salazar conjured up a tiny, white rabbit. "Your uncle is no doubt a horrid mundane. And Mundanes fear what they cannot understand."

"You don't?" Little Snake asked. Salazar looked sternly, but gently at the innocent little face.

"No, Little Snake," Salazar said. "That is the difference between wizards and Mundanes: Mundanes seek to destroy the unknown, wizards seek to understand and embrace it." The child grew quiet, and Salazar was pleased to find he was deeply thinking this over, rather than just accepting it.

"I can do magic? I can learn at school?" Salazar nodded firmly.

"And I shall teach you," he said firmly. "But first, I shall need your name."

"Freak"

Salazar blinked. "What?"

"My name, they've always called me Freak."

Salazar fought to keep his expression neutral, but on the inside, he was raging. "Well, that's not a proper name for such a boy as you." Oooooh, just wait until he got his hands on those Mundanes! They didn't deserve death by magic, if they wanted to be so crass and primitive, he'd be more than willing to sink to their level and beat them to death with a tree branch! "We shall need to give you a new one."

"You can do that." Despite his anger at the Mundanes, Salazar found himself chuckling. "What's your name?"

"Salazar Antonio de Oliveira Slytherin," he said, "And I shall give you a name fitting for the most powerful wizard in all the lands." Salazar paused smugly. "My name."

That evening, Sammael Astarot Nathrach Slytherin was introduced to the other three founders of Hogwarts. "Uncle God" was more than happy to promise to teach "Baby Snake" how to fly a broom. Salazar rolled his eyes as he watched the two of them interact. He'd be lying if he'd said that he wasn't pleased the others were treating him so kindly. Rowena asked him what he thought about building his own wand the next day. And Helga, here Salazar sighed, Helga was going to spoil him rotten, he thought as he watched the sweet little witch hand his soon-to-be son yet another pointless sweet.

But when Sammael cast a happy look his way, he couldn't bring himself to grow angry.

 **PLease Review!**

 **A/n "Harry's" new name is "Venom of God" then "snake" in two different languages. I thought it was fitting xD.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter three…and WTF! I've got 46 favs and 99 followers…I'm speechless. IT's ONLY been five days! I'm taking a break from my other stories to write this up. I'm really glad you all like it. Thank you so much for the reviews, it might sound silly, but I see reviews as a sort of payment for writing, and I feel absolutely rich when I look at how many I've gotten so far! I look forward to continuing to hear from all of you lovelies!**

 **Stegian: Thanks! I didn't come up with it myself, though (sadly) I think I read it in some other fics, maybe on AO3 I think. Anyway, I agree. Muggle sounds like a fairly modern term.**

 **Guest and Neko5678: I agree, it** ** _wouldn't_** **really be incest. However I'm waiting until I get to that point, based on the reviews of the people, to decide between Snarry or Harrymort/Tomarry.**

 **Geetac, Kalanrae, Poisinrose3 and Gothazon: I'm glad xD**

 **harryandginnyfan83: They will get along, even if they don't get together. Never fear, love.**

 **Flying Chrissy: Well, here it is! Feel free to tell me what you think! (In fact, please please please tell me what you think)**

 **Ainslily: I'm so glad you approve, my dear Lily. I do live to serve, after all *bows*. Anyway, the whole Harry/Sirius or Harry/Lucius thing (read: threat) was a joke. I just wanted people to review, and I'm sooooo glad you did. ;)**

 **-James (lol)**

 **Goose: I will make note of your preference, though I beg you not be offended if it** ** _does_** **end up being a yaoi fic. After all, I, myself, am very much gay. And so a Harry/male fic is much easier for me to write. Though, let it be known that if more people wish for a Harry/Female fic than a Snarry or Harrymort, than I WILL write up a female OC character. Promise. Pinky swear. On my honor as a Boy Scout and everything….I will do my best…to do my duty…to the fangirls and fandoms…**

 **Hope I got everyone that reviewed to the last chapter! Love you all, and keep the comments coming! I love them! I drink them up like coffee every morning! It's not weird!**

 **(And I thought I would clarify that my user name is "Alex is James 92" Hehe though I can see how that would be confusing. Didn't even think about it…)**

 **Snarry vote: 4**

 **Harrymort vote: 3**

 **Harry/ FemOC: 1**

 **(Psst! Snarry is winning!)**

 **May the gods be ever in your favor**

 **-James**

Sammael took to his new life with a strange sort of joy he'd never felt before. It was like he was glowing, on the inside. It started deep inside and spread warmth all the way out until he was certain he'd just float off the ground and away. He had a Papa, and an Uncle, and two Aunts. Not to mention a HUGE house that belonged to just the five of them. He loved his new name: Sammael. He'd often whisper it to himself, just to make sure he remembered it, and that it was really his. Papa had said it was a noble name, fitting of only the finest wizard.

Sammael beamed as he lay in his nice, comfy bed. His Papa thought it was the finest wizard. His Papa was so kind. Sammael squirmed, eager to start the day. But no one had come for him yet. The sun sent beams of light trickling through his window. It lit up the room. _HIS_ room. AND IT WAS SOOOOO BIG! There was a wide window, which a soft cushion on its ledge, big enough for both him _and_ his Papa to sit on. There were shelves along the far wall. They were mostly empty, but Auntie Helga had promised that she would take him to a special place to buy him some things.

There was thick carpet that his bare toes could just sink into, all over the floor. The curtains on the window were soft and silky. His bed was three times as big as the one in, what he now knew was, the medward, and it was even comfier. Uncle God had turned some of his own clothes into robes that fit Sammael, and they were now carefully folded in a black and silver lined trunk that sat at the edge of his bed.

Sammael sighed happily. He loved his room. He'd never had one before, but he was certain that not even _Dudley_ would ever had a room this wonderful. The fireplace crackled invitingly, keeping him warm. Papa had lit it himself, with is _magic wand_ no less. Sammael wriggled happily. Auntie Rowena said that she'd make him one, all his own.

A knock on the door startled Sammael from his thoughts. "Little Snake?" A gentle voice asked as the door opened. His Papa, Sammael saw—though he hadn't actually called the man that out loud. What would he think? Would he grow angry? Would he mind? Better keep it to himself, he remembered Uncle God had _called_ Mr. Lord Slytherin his Papa, and so had Auntie Helga. But the little creatures that ran around the castle, and did things Freak—I mean, Sammael—would normally do, called him Master Lord Slytherin.

Sammael smiled at the man, and sat up. Lord Slytherin was wearing dark, dark green robes; they were almost black. His long hair was hanging loose, though, unlike yesterday. His wand was tucked behind his ear, like Sammael had sometimes seen Petunia do with a pencil. "Good morning, Lord Slytherin." For some reason, this made the kind man frown—even more so than usual. Sammael's heart sped up frantically. Oh, no. Had he done something wrong? Would his new Papa not want him anymore? What did he do? Did he get Papa's name wrong? What did he say?

"None of that, boy," Sammael flinched involuntarily, and the man frowned more deeply. Sammael wanted to bolt, but he couldn't. Wouldn't. Not after everything the good, kind wizard had done. So he stayed. "My name is Salazar, and that is what you may call me." Sammael nodded, wordlessly. "Good," said Salazar, pulling the blankets gently down from around the tiny boy's shoulders. "Come, let me dress you and we shall be off. No doubt ' _Uncle God'_ " Salazar said the name in a derisive tone "will have eaten all of the pastries by the time we've gotten into the hall, if we don't hurry." Sammael giggled, losing some of the tension as loving hands picked him up, then set him down, gently, on the floor. Sammael didn't know if he should mention that he already knew how to dress himself (he was a big boy now) but then again, Dudley still let Petunia dress him, and Sammael was younger than he. Also, no one had ever done that for Sammael…that he could remember, anyway. It felt…nice.

***1047***

Salazar tugged off the nightshirt, which was actually one of his own, just shrunken down, before helping the tiny thing don a set of robes. Not the best fit, but it would do. He'd get the child, _his child_ , some better ones later. Salazar frowned as he fastened up the robe, remembering how his Little Snake had flinched earlier. Was it something he did? The poor thing. Once Sammael was dressed, Salazar appraised him at arm's length. He was a precious, little thing. Conversation last night revealed that Sammael was, in fact, almost six years old. Still hardly more than a babe, but nevertheless extremely small for his age. His eyes were huge, almost unnaturally so, and haunted yet innocent at the same time. So deep yet so revealing. His pale face was void of all healthy color that usually decorated the cheeks of children his age. His arms and legs were willowy. He was definitely strong, but he didn't have an ounce of fat on him. Something that Helga and himself were determined to fix. Soon.

Not able to help himself, Salazar pressed his lips to the boy's forehead, directly between those beautiful emerald eyes. When he pulled away, he saw the Little Snake was smiling shyly, looking up at him through long black lashes. Salazar was _not_ a loving man, nor was he exceedingly patient or understanding. But something about this boy made him want to capture the moon at its fullest glory, wrap it in gold and silver and set it at the babe's feet. Salazar sighed deeply, scooping up the Little Snake, his Little Snake, and smiled softly as Sammael pressed his face to Salazar's neck. He'd only truly known this boy for not yet a full day, but he'd go to hell and back for him. Yes, Salazar decided, this was definitely a worthy heir. But, Helga was adamant he didn't perform the blood-ritual until Little Snake was strong enough. If his magical core wasn't settled all the way, after been bound for so long by strange magic, he could end up being severely injured. Or worse, lose his magic.

Nothing, Salazar had long ago decided, was a worse fate than having something as wonderful as magic, and then…losing it. "Thank you" came a muffled voice.

"You are most welcome, Little Snake."

***1047***

Salazar was scowling more fiercely than he had since Godric had saved him from his own personal, Mundane-filled hell. He was vaguely aware that the house-elf filling his goblet with more pumpkin juice was trembling at the intensity of it. But Salazar didn't care. Not when—

"Again! Again!" Sammael giggled, clapping his hands. Godric shoved a carrot, _an entire carrot, the imbecile!_ , up his nose. Then, he closed his eyes and hacked up a canary. Yes, a live canary. The little yellow bird flew around the room, before Godric summoned it back, closing his hand around it. When he opened his hand back up, it was once again a carrot. "Ooh!" Little Sammael said in awe as Godric took a bite out of it. "Yucky"

Salazar sniffed. Simple transfiguration, that's all it was, as Sammael would learn soon enough. Nothing _he_ couldn't do, but Salazar would _never_ lower himself to do such _childish_ tricks. Magic was, well, majestic! Something to be honored! Not _toyed with_.

"Smile, Sally!" said Helga cheerfully from his side. "Your face will freeze like that if you hold it that way for too long."

"It already has, dear sister," said Rowena dryly before taking an elegant sip of tea. Salazar's scowl deepened.

"See what else, Sammy" Godric said. If looks could kill, Godric would be dead ten scores over.

"Don't call him that!" Salazar hissed, venomously.

"Fine then: 'Ellie'." Sammael giggled at ' _Uncle God's'_ antics. Salazar barely restrained from strangling his dear brother. But only just barely. "Watch now, Baby Snake," Salazar gritted his teeth as Godric dramatically readied his want. Sammael was _his_ little snake. "Your Papa should appreciate _this_ trick, unctuous old serpent that he is. _Serpensortia_!"

Before Salazar could react, an Adder flew from the tip of Godric's wand. Salazar felt his heart freeze in his chest as it landed in the lap of his precious Sammael.

***1047***

 **a/n and I'm just gonna end that here…**

 **….seriously, yall can go home now…**

 **Buh bye!**

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **Okay, fine!**

***1047***

Sammael was having a fun time watching Uncle God do magic tricks. They were even better than the magician that Uncle Vernon had hired for Dudley's last birthday party! Papa didn't seem to be enjoying it very much though. Maybe he was just so used to magic, that he didn't think it was fun anymore. Sammael grew a little saddened at that thought.

"See what else, Sammy," Sammael looked up at his Uncle God, who was pulling his wand from up his sleeve. His Papa said something, but Sammael wasn't really paying attention; he wanted to see what Uncle God was going to do with his wand. "Fine then: 'Ellie'." Sammael giggled at the stupid nickname. "Watch now, Baby Snake," Sammael rolled his eyes, he only really liked it when his Papa called him a Snake. "Your Papa should appreciate this trick" Sammael perked up immediately "unctuous old serpent that he is." He wasn't quite sure what that meant, but it didn't sound nice " _Serpensortia_!"

Out of nowhere, a pretty brown snake flew and landed, right on him. Sammael had seen snakes like this before, back when his name had been Freak. They were always really nice. So Sammael smiled without fear. " ** _Hello_** " he said, stroking the smooth scales.

***1047***

Salazar fumbled for his wand, cursing when he realized that he'd neglected to put it in his holster. Helga shrieked, pulling antidote after potion after potion from her ever-present satchel. Rowena's eyes were wide open in fright, as much as she cared for Salazar, she _despised_ snakes. And frogs. And fish. And lizards. And just about anything with slimy skin and scales.

His precious Little Snake smiled, _actually smiled_ , at the Adder, which was reared up to strike him. Salazar's wand fell from where he'd stuck it—behind his ear? When had he put it there?—and Salazar scrambled for it. He'd just raised it was was about to incinerate the vermin that dared threaten his son…when _it_ happened.

" ** _Hello_** **,"** Little Snake said as he petted the Adder, which leaned into his touch. " ** _You're really pretty"_**

 ** _"Thanksss"_** said the adder. " ** _Where am I?_** "

" ** _Hogwarts. I live here with my family. Where do you live?"_**

 ** _"Under a rock, with_** **my** ** _family."_**

 ** _"Oh. What are you doing here?"_**

 ** _"To hell if I know…"_**

Salazar was baffled. "Sal?" Helga asked cautiously, still fingering a vial of Adder venom antidote.

"Ah, see brother?" said Godric smugly. "I knew you'd appreciate this! I heard him speaking this tongue to a serpent in one of the portraits last night, after supper had been cleared then you and sister Helga left to gift the Friar with that flower for his potion experiments."

"YOU IMBECILIC SARDING FOOL!" Bellowed Salazar!

"Language!" Bellowed Helga!

"SNAKE!" Bellowed Rowena!

"PUDDING!" Bellowed Godric as the house elves served them dessert.

" ** _Your humansss are sstrange, Little One,"_** said the Adder. " ** _Ssso very loud…_** "

" ** _They aren't usually that loud."_** Said Sammael dutifully. Salazar regained his wits and vanished the snake. " ** _Heyyyy!"_** whined Sammael. Salazar picked the boy up, then firmly planted Sammael on his lap.

" ** _How long have you been able to speak to serpents, Little Snake?"_** asked Salazar.

" ** _Since, forever. Can't everybody_**?" Sammael's face was the picture of angelic innocence. Salazar sighed, stroking the soft raven strands of hair on his son's head.

" ** _No, only special people."_**

 ** _"Like you an' me?"_**

 ** _"…yes"_**

 ** _"Wicked."_**


	4. Chapter 4

**!OMG!**

 **It's literally only been five minutes since I've posted my last chapter (Like I literally got up and grabbed some cold take-out from the fridge) and when I come back to look at it, lo and behold I'M UP TO 47 FAVS and 101 FOLLOWERS!**

 **Anyway this is a little shorter, but oh well. Vote for the Ship in this, and ENJOY!**

 **May the gods be ever in your favor**

 **-James**

' _Just one more reason why my Little Snake is perfect,'_ Thought Salazar contentedly as he recalled the events on that morning. What are the odds that Sammael, a fellow parselmouth, appear soon after Salazar achieved the ability himself? He knew it was either gained directly from basilisk, or inherited through blood. But that didn't makes sense, Sammael was a mere five-year old. He couldn't have hatched a basilisk. And he was obviously abused by mundanes, who Salazar had _thought_ were his relatives. His thinking had been backed up, by the fact that Sammael only spoke of his **previous** aunt, uncle and cousin, and spoke of them with either great dislike or fear. Then a thought struck Salazar. What of his parents? He'd have to interrogate the child later.

Also, he mentally noted, he'd have to visit Eadlin later. That basilisk of his grew ornery when left alone for too long.

He was watching Sammael and Rowena experiment with wand parts, striving to find the perfect materials to construct one for the boy. "What about this, Sammael?" asked Rowena, placing that boy's hand a span's height in the air above a bundle of twigs. Salazar's Little Snake had his eyes tightly shut, his tongue slightly protruding out of the corner of his mouth.

"Mmm, no," Sammael said decidedly, making Salazar chuckle a little. "It's too cold."

"Too cold?" Rowena asked in interest. "What about this one."

Sammael obediently placed his hand over the next bundle of twigs, and immediately flinched back, withdrawing his hand, quickly. "It tingles"

"Tingles?" Rowena slowly said the unfamiliar word. Sammael did that often, saying words that the adults had never heard before like "Telly" or "Cars" or "Epicness" or "Geronimo" or—what was it? Oh, yes—"Batman". Salazar shook his head fondly. "Well," said Rowena, "This one is much different than those two." But Sammael was ignoring her. He scampered across the room and grabbed up a bundle from another table.

"I like these," he said happily. "They're warm." Rowena raised an eyebrow, coming over. Seeing that the graceful woman was listening intently, Sammael continued. "It feels like it's singing!"

"I see," said Rowena, carefully taking the bundle from him. "Holly wood." Salazar raised an eyebrow. Holly was rarely used in a wand, but when it was, it was powerful. Salazar felt a burst of pride. "One of the purest woods," Rowena continued. Salazar cocked his head; he hadn't known that detail. "Excellent for protective spells, as the wood itself has a particularly protective nature." As she was talking, Rowena began to get out the various, strange looking tools she would need to make the wand, as well as several potions from cabinets that were scattered around the room. "They will allow anyone to use it, _temporarily_ , provided that they are in danger. However, they are very picky about who can own them. It works most happily for those who may need help overcoming a tendency to anger and impetuosity. At the same time, holly wands often choose owners who are engaged in some dangerous, and often _spiritual,_ quest." Salazar drew his brows together; he didn't much like the sound of that.

Sammael didn't seem to worry much, only saying "I think it's pretty." The choosing of the core proved just as interesting, as Sammael didn't like any of the unicorn hairs, kneazel whispers (much to his Papa's relief—wands with cores like that made for weak owners, regardless of the wood), coral, Veela hair, Kelpie mane, rougarou hair, White River monster spine, or even Thunderbird feathers (to Salazar's slight disappointment). Sammael's fingers lingered a tad longer over the basilisk scale Salazar had given to Rowena, after several had fallen off of Eadlin last time she'd shed. But in the end, he'd only remarked "That feels sad".

"Threstral hair or Phoenix feather" Rowena said to Salazar.

"What?"

"Those are the only two choses that are left," Rowena said, producing one of both. "Threstral hair, or phoenix feather, and _both_ are notorious for being very choosy about their bearers, and for not working well with Holly!" Salazar took the core ingredients from his sister, and walked over to Sammael, holding them out.

Sammael took one look and smiled. "Yes." He said.

"Yes?"

"Yes," Sammael took them both. "This one is crying," he said holding up the thestral hair. Salazar wasn't sure to be sad, resigned or surprised that Sammael could see it. "And this one is laughing!" Sammael giggled himself as he took the feather from Salazar, and was it just his imagination, or did a flame flicker over the boy's hand as he did so. "But they make each other calm." Sammael wound the hair around the feather, then held it to his chest.

"Your boy is a paradox," Rowena declared after a moment of stunned silence. "Now, leave. I need absolute silence to combine these."

***1047***

Salazar tried to ignore them, he really did. He _really_ did. "Now, keep your hold loose! The broom needs its freedom!" Salazar snorted as he gathered the mulberries he'd need for a calming drought. He was in the Dark Forest ('a truly original name, Godric,' Salazar mentally sneered), gathering potion ingredients. Sammael had asked to follow, and Salazar had agreed readily. However, Godric then took it as an open invitation to everyone. He'd promptly followed close behind, bearing that bloody broom with him, as well as a spare one he'd enchanted for Sammael.

Really, flying brooms? Where was Godric getting these ideas.

Godric flew low in a dive, barely missing the top of Salazar's head, before zooming back up above the tree tops. In his surprise, Salazar yelped, dropping the pouch that held his berries. "Quit it!" Salazar demanded.

"Why?"

"Because you will taint my son with your churlish ways!" Godric barked out a laugh. Sammael, admittedly, was handling the broom surprisingly well. It was as if he was born to ride one…then Salazar shook himself out of his own train of thought. What the bloody hell? Brooms were meant for cleaning, not _riding_. And boys were  definitely not meant for flying. Especially not _his_ darling, who was still recovering from several severe injuries! And yet, Salazar thought he'd allow Sammael, just this once, as he watched his gracefully loop and twirl and dive.

***1047***

"Can you play games" came the unexpected question that would shape the history of the wizarding world. Godric looked over at the child (who he considered either his nephew or godson), as Sammael sat on his hovering broom.

"Like what?" Godric asked curiously.

"I dunno," said Sammael, scrunching up his nose in the cutest way possible. "Um…like…catch!"

"Oh?" Asked Godric. "And what are we catching?" Though he was thinking about it, and it sounded like a _grand_ idea. "Wait a moment." Godric zoomed downwards and grabbed a large rock from off the ground.

"Gryffindor!" came an angry shout from below. "DON'T YOU _DARE_ THROW THAT AT MY CHILD!"

Godric scoffed "Come up here and stop me, ya great kneazle!" Sammael giggled softly, though he was careful not to let his Papa hear him. Godric balanced on the broom with only his legs, while pulling out his wand. With a wave and a mutter, the rock turned into a leather ball. Then, Godric held out his hands towards the trees. " _Accio branches"_ he said. Immediately, two good-sized branches soared towards them, one knocking his Papa over the head as it went. Sammael didn't say anything, but he was sure Uncle God had done it on purpose.

Godric handed one to Sammael, but when Sammael's hands were upon it, he noticed they had been turned into long, polished bats. "Try and hit it!" Godric said, throwing the ball up into the air and whacking it. Sammael flew backwards, much to his Uncle's delight and father's horror, and gave it his best swing. It didn't go as far as Godric's blow, but neither minded much. It was going well, until Godric send it hurling towards Salazar.

"Brother!" Godric tried to warn, but it was too late. _OOF_ it whacked him right in the face, and knocked him backwards onto his arse. Salazar quickly stood, his eyes blazing.

" **Godric Gryffindor**!"

" _Fly away_!"

Godric sped off, cackling now that he knew his brother would be fine. Sammael was right on his tail. Not wanting to be caught in the crossfire.

***1047***

Rowena thought that the wand making was going very well. It was definitely the most interesting one she had made to date. So enthralled in her task, was she, that she hadn't noticed when Godric snuck in, snagged a small statuette of a bird, and snuck back out, giggling all the while.

***1047***

"What are you doing now?" Sammael asked his Uncle.

"Well," said Godric. "Since chasing that ball turned out…disastrous, I thought we'd try something smaller."

Sammael looked at the small, moving statue with interest. It was of a little golden bird, with the most delicate crystal wings. He recognized it from inside Rowena's rooms. "Won't Auntie get made that you stole it?"

"Perish the thought" said Godric, waving away the child's fears. "She loves me." Godric waved his wand over the bird, and it transformed into a small golden orb with wings, fluttering about.

Sammael grinned. "Whoever catches it first is the winner!" he declared as Godric set it loose. Their roars of laughter were heard all across the building as they chased the thing through the halls, very narrowly missing Salazar.

"QUIT IT!" hollered Lord Slytherin

***1047***

Salazar had had quite enough. He was going to give those brats a taste of their own medicine. Oh, yes, he was. He cackled quietly as he charmed the flying balls to target his 'dear brother'. His smile only widened when he heard their laughter getting closer. The ball was fighting the restraints that Salazar had put on it, fighting to get free and chase its prey. With a wave of his wand, the restraints disappeared, and the ball took off down the hallway.

Several seconds later there was a loud _THUD CRASH_ and a scream. Godric's scream. Salazar smiled in satisfaction, and closed his study door.

***1047***

Rowena had just finished young Sammael's wand, when she noticed that her favorite statuette, which had been given to her by Helga, had disappeared. "Point me" she said to her want, stashing Sammael's into her pocket. Her own wand spun around, then pointed to the north east. Towards the sounds of unrestrained laughter. Rowena narrowed her eyes. She threw open her door and stormed out, her hair flying behind her.

"YOU SNITCH!" she yelled at Godric, when she noticed he was chasing, on his bloody broom no less, a small golden object. No doubt her prized statuette transfigured into some kind of play thing.

Salazar approached Rowena. "Ah" he said, he spared a moment to glare at their brother. "You're finished. Did it go well, sister?" Rowena smoothed out her scowl.

"It did," she said, removing the wand from her pocket. Salazar was just about to take it from her, to give to his Little Snake, when Godric barreled towards him. Rowena gasped and dropped to the floor, Salazar wasn't so lucky. The wind was knocked out of him as he hit the floor hard.

"QUIT IT!" he snarled after taking a deep breath to restore oxygen to his lungs.

"CAN'T STOP!" cried Godric. Sure enough, the idiot crashed into a wall. He laid on the floor for a few moments, groaning. In the background, Salazar heard Helga and Sammael giggling. Rowena held out her hand and the golden ball soared into her hand. Then, she stalked over to Godric's prone form and placed her boot on his stomach, forcing the air from his chest.

"I've got the snitch," she said, glaring down at him. Sammael hopped down gracefully from his broom.

"It's a snitch?" he asked in confusion.

"I told you to quit it," Salazar told his brother, shaking his head "and this is why."

Godric was quiet for a moment, and then "What's Quidditch?" he asked, his voice slightly slurred before losing consciousness altogether.

Of course, none of this stopped Godric _or_ Sammael from fine tuning their new game, and even introducing it to the new students when school started up. Hogwarts was never the same since.


	5. Chapter 5

**This is me, absolutely freaking out…. Wow, I can't believe all the attention this story is getting! I love all of you!**

 **Also, I had a question for all of you: Obviously if this became a Harrymort fic, Harry/Sammael would be dark. However, if it were a Snarry fic, would he be light or dark? So, what say you, my dearest readers? Shall he be the Lord of the Light? Or shall he truly be the Dark Lord's equal?**

 **That being said here is the results of the voting (and, yes, I will continue to take votes for the shipping right up until it's time to write the part of the story where Sammael goes back to his proper time)**

 **Snarry: 9**

 **Harrymort: 14**

 **Threesome: 1**

 **Harry/FemOC: 2**

 **So, Harrymort is in the lead! Just so you know, when I'm counting votes, I'm not looking at the names of who put the votes in….*hint hint***

 **Since there were soo many reviews, I can't answer them all personally, without taking up an overly stupid amount of space, but I'm really glad you all liked it! If any of you have any ideas, comments, complaints or even just something random to say (Austin Moon likes Pancakes) please, DO SO! I'm loving all the reviews!**

 **Don't forget to Vote for the shipping and for Dark!Harry or Light!Harry. You have only a few more chapters to decide! *Cue Jeopardy theme song*…**

 **May the gods be ever in your favor**

 **-James**

Helga was bored. She figured she should be trying to enjoy the silence while she could. It wasn't something that lasted long in Hogwarts, not when you have a Godric roaming around. He'd gotten even more immature, it seemed with the arrival of their darling "nephew", Sammael. Sweet little Sammael, Helga smiled over at the boy who was being taught the "proper way" to hold a quill by his Auntie Rowena. His penmanship was better than you would expect from someone his age, particularly when most _adults_ couldn't read or write. This boy was astounding. Granted, his spelling was strange, as was his use of the language, but that wasn't something that couldn't be fixed. And, Helga decided, he _was_ only five.

The sweetling had only been here at Hogwarts for four days now; he was almost fully healed. However, it seemed as though he was simply MEANT to be a part of their lives. Salazar had become less withdrawn, Rowena became less strict and stern, Helga had someone to mother (Godric got annoyed when she tried to baby him nowadays), and Godric had a playmate. Yes, they were all far better off with Sammael Slytherin in their lives.

"Now, Sammael," Rowena's firm tones pulled Helga out of her thoughts. "This is how to mark an essay when you must turn it in for school."

"Why?"

"So that it's easier for your teacher's to organize," she said solemnly. "We will have many students, and it will be easy to forget who wrote what if they forget to mark it appropriately. Now, see, put your name up in this corner—"

"My full name? I like my full name; it's pretty!"

"You can if you must," came the indulgent reply. "And now you write the name of your class and teacher below, and then the title of the piece, before adding the date."

"Mmm, kay," said the little boy, carefully dipping his quill into an inkwell, letting the excess drip off back into the pot, before lowering the tip onto a fresh scroll of parchment. He spoke out what he was writing as he went. "Sammael … Astarot … Nathrach ... Slitherin…"

"Slytherin is spelled with a 'y'," gently corrected Rowena. She waved her wand, vanishing what he had written. "Start again."

"Sammael … Astarot … Nathrach ... Slytherin…Magical Theory…Auntie Rowena" Rowena rolled her eyes but said nothing. "Unicorns and faeries…June 10th, 1994"

"What?" Helga had stood from where she'd been sitting at a small wooden desk. Rowena was gaping at the paper, her eyes wide and cheeks pale. "This…this makes sense of everything…"

"Of what, sister?" Helga asked anxiously. She noticed that Sammael was growing scared, so she picked him up and placed the tiny boy on her hip.

"Did I get the date wrong?" asked Sammael, his usually bright eyes dimmed and wet.

"Yes," said Rowena calmly to him. Then she turned to Helga "We must inform his father."

Suddenly, Sammael gasped and started writhing in Helga's grip. It took all the little witch had to not drop the boy onto the hard stone floor. "N-no please! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I do better!" He started babbling incoherently, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. There was a panicked, cornered look in his eyes. Helga was at a loss, but Rowena had already sprinted over to her personal cabinets and pulled out a small vial of brown liquid: calming drought.

She unstopped it and placed the mouth of the vial to the boy's lips. "Drink, Sammael." Her voice was so cold and commanding that he did so, immediately and without a fight. As soon as he did so, he relaxed in Helga's embrace, and laid his little head down on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he sniffled. "Don't want Papa be mad…"

"He won't be, Sammael," Rowena assure him, though her face was still pale. She waved her wand over the boy, and Helga felt him go limp, his breathing deepened. He was asleep. Rowena scooped up the scroll and gestured for Helga to follow as she left her classroom. Helga did so, albeit a tad nervously.

"What did you mean, what you said before?" Helga ventured to ask. Rowena was silent for a pause, seemingly to gather her thoughts, before answering her sister.

"I've been having strange visions, they made no sense but were vaguely disturbing. I hadn't wanted to alarm Salazar, but now I see I should have been frank from the start." Helga wasn't extraordinarily surprised by this revelation; it was well known that Rowena had slight seer tendencies. She wasn't as proficient in the arts as some, but better than most. Bits and pieces of understanding would come to her, accompanies by the smallest of glimpses. It was also just as normal for Rowena to not share her visions until she had a clear, or almost clear, idea of what she was seeing.

"And?" Helga prompted, but Rowena would say no more.

***1047***

Salazar finally found a moment of silence to relax in. He sank down onto the soft couch in his quarters, cradling a tumbler of whiskey in his hands. Not the most refined of drinks, Salazar would grant you, but he enjoyed it nevertheless. The fireplace was warm and crackling. Eadlin, still only a hatchling but now nearly five feet long, basked in front of the hearth. Godric was sleeping off a headache that came from plowing headfirst into a wall, and the ladies were entertaining themselves with Sammael's education.

Salazar drank a deep draft from his whiskey, then sighed in satisfaction. He leaned back and closed his eyes. Eadlin sat up and hissed at the door. Like all basilisks, she had two sets of eyes lids: one near transparent pair that canceled out the harmful properties of her creature magic in her eyes, and one thick scaly pair that protected her eyes. As of right now, Salazar noticed, both were up. If anyone walked through the door, they'd get the full force of his familiar's power. " ** _Eadlin, manners_** ," he reminded her.

" ** _Someone's coming_** ," she said, but slid her thin, transparent shields down anyway. " ** _Something is wrong_**." Salazar felt his pulse quicken. He didn't doubt Eadlin, not for a moment; snakes were perceptive creatures, sensitive to magic. His first thought, instead, jumped to his son-to-be son. Had there been an accident? Were they practicing with potions? Had something exploded? He didn't have long to fret, as his doors soon were thrown open. His sister raced in, Helga carrying an unconscious Sammael.

Fearing the worse, Salazar snatched his precious child away from the witch, checking him over, wandlessly, with only the pure intent of his own magical aura. A magic-induced sleep. A simple charm. What was wrong? Salazar looked up at his sisters, confusion on his face. Rowena only handed him a scroll. Salazar laid his Little Snake down on the couch, where Eadlin, who had already taken an extreme liking to the boy, curled around the still figure. Salazar opened the scroll, his eyes growing wider as he comprehended what he read.

Sammael Astarot Nathrach Slytherin

Magical Theory; Auntie Rowena

Unicorns and Faeries

June 10th, 1994"

Rowena then looked at him, a strange aura lighting her stormy eyes. "I had a vision: a strange land, Hogwarts filled with hundreds of students and dozens of classes, a monster lowering his wand towards an infant with unruly black hair and glowing green eyes. I saw a strange portal of swirling magic, a young man whose face I could not see, stepping through and never coming back, yet already on his way home."

Salazar shook his head. "My sister, you speak in riddles. Answer me this: the date he has written…?"

"Yes."

Helga chewed her bottom lip, looking down at the sleeping child with a mixture of love and fear in her eyes. "He must be powerful, so powerful, to have traveled that…far…"

"Through time, through 900 years!" Salazar shook his head. "That amulet he had, the strange one with the broken glass…It had magical residue on it. Perhaps when it broke, Sammael's own accidental magic reacted with it, causing the jump?" Rowena shook her head.

"We can never know for certain," she said. "We can only know this child will do many great things. But this does change things for you, Salazar." At his questioning look, she continued. "He doesn't belong in this time," she said. "Having him here could change things, perhaps for the better, perhaps for the worse. All I know it that he was born nearly a millennia in the future."

"Lady Magic and Fate themselves have given me a perfect son," Salazar said, his eyes blazing, but his shoulders slumped. "I cannot give him up."

"Let Sammael decide," Helga offered, speaking up. "Wait a little while, until he is older. Until then, we can strive to find a way to send him back; that is what you saw, isn't it Rowena? And if he decides to go back, it would correct much of any damage to Time. And if he does not, well, I will not object. The boy is a treasure."

Rowena looked surprised. "Very wise, sister," she said. "I had arrived to much the same conclusion."

"Why on earth would Sammael want to return to whence he came?" asked Salazar. "You both saw the state he arrived in! He wasn't loved there! I very much doubt he was even _wanted_ there."

"Than you have nothing to fear, for losing your son," Rowena told him smoothly. "Even still, without Sammael's potential travel back into his natural time, the idea of studying this…this _extraordinary_ magical feat…" Salazar thought about this, then relented.

"It does sound interesting," he decided. "I'll wait until Sammael is old enough to fully understand to give him the option, to let him know we are looking for a way. But, I'll not hide anything from him."

"We never asked you to," said Rowena, a rare smile of affection gracing her regal features. Unaware of everything, Sammael slept on…

 **a/n sorry that was a tad shorter than normal, I just needed to get this little tid bit in!**


	6. Chapter 6

**And here we are on today's episode of "NAME THAT SHIP!" And HEEEERE are our nominees!**

 **Harrymort:20**

 **Snarry: 24**

 **Threesome: 4**

 **Harry/FemOC: 3**

 **And as for Harry's magical association**

 **Dark: 3**

 **Light: 4**

 **Grey: 4**

 **Whoo it's gonna be close! But Snarry is still winning! Magical Association is all tied up, so I think we're looking at Grey!Harry. Also, yes, Sammael WILL remember his time back in Founder's Era when he travels forwards in time. Yes, Salazar** ** _has_** **been straightforward so far, but then he's really only been dealing with a five year old, Godric and his two female co founders. And we've only seen a very small gap of time. So, yeah, he hasn't shown a lot of slyness or cunning, though I think he's shown a fair amount of ambition.**

 **Dark!Harry: murderous tendencies, sadistic, wants to kill all muggles, dark magic, against Dumbledore all that good stuff, basically baby dark lord, only with the goodness of a Gryffindor, the wisdom of Rowena and the loyalty of Helga (the peeps that raised him) guiding him. He's only angry at how Dumbledore is pitting the entire wizarding world after the Dark, particularly since his beloved Papa was one of the first true Dark Lords**

 **Grey!Harry: Sees magic as something that needs to be free, something that shouldn't be controlled or regulated. He sees muggles as a threat**

 **Light!Harry: NOT the golden boy, but an intelligent man with a level head who thinks Dumbledore has the right idea, but is going about it the wrong way. Sees Voldy as a madman who needs to be either stopped or redeemed. Wants peace among magicks and muggles.**

 **As for how long until Harry returns home…..idk….maybe five more chapters? Not much more than that for sure. Guess it just depends on where my muse takes me…**

 **I have to respond to Bookmeister999: What? I'm sorry, I just got so confused reading your review, LOL. But, yeak, I LOVE writing and reading about kiddles. But with MAGIC anything is possible, and if yall ain't against mpreg….**

 **Ahuvati: Yeah! I'd love to read your take on it! Just remember to tell me about it!**

 **Love ya!**

 **(VOTE)**

 **-James**

***1047***

Four years, one month and twenty-one days. That's how long Sammael had been here. It was the thirty and first day of Quintilis in the year 1098. He was happy, so very, very happy, for the most part. He'd known for years now, the truth of what had happened. Sammael smiled ruefully; that had been the weirdest conversation of his life. Uncle God had apparently been the only one not in the know, and if it hadn't been for Papa's insistence and Auntie Helga's tears, he mightn't have believed Aunt Rowena.

Sammael relaxed underneath his favorite Weeping Willow that stood slouching, yet proud, by a bend in a brook in the midst of the Dark Forest. It was his favorite spot. Certainly, there were many dangerous creatures here: werewolf packs roamed, centaurs made camps, giant spiders, venomous snakes and evil sentient plants. But it wasn't dangerous to _him._ The werewolves weren't as wild or vicious with him, for some unknown reason that made Godric insanely jealous. The centaurs and he had made an understanding when he was young, they respected him for his power and his innocent look on the world, and in turn he respected their wisdom. The snakes were his to command and they kept the spiders in check. And thanks to his many lessons, courtesy of his family, he knew how to deal with the many plants that would be out for his blood.

The sun shone through the gaps in the web of tree limbs that spread his above him. The grass was thick ad luscious and tiny blossoms bloomed in the grass. The sound of gently running water was soothing, it helped him think. Today was his birthday, his tenth birthday. But, for some reason, it wasn't as happy an occasion as his birthdays usually were. And it was all Sammael's fault.

The night before, he's had a dream. It was a strange dream of a man like a giant riding something that Sammael vaguely remembered was called a motorcycle. It was loud, deafening. At first, it had been a grand dream, but then the roaring of the motorcycle faded to sadistic laughter. Someone was laughing at him, mocking him. It was far off, he head a shout—it was a man—and then there was an evil flash of green. Then the ominous creaking of steps; someone was walking up the stairs. Somebody was crying, they were holding Sammael tight to themselves as tears splattered his cheeks. It was a woman with vivid green eyes and hair like fire. The rest of her was blurry, impossible to make out. She was chanting something, her voice rising and falling, like she was singing without notes. Then a crash, and the door fell to the ground. Sammael was placed down on a soft bed, lips were pressed to his face. Then the woman turned to face the man—the monster—that had intruded.

"Please," the woman begged, her voice breaking. "Not Harry, kill me! Please, not my Harry. I'll do anything, I swear! I'd fight for you, I'd die instead. Just please: spare my Harry!"

"Move aside, stupid girl," said the monster. "I've no desire to spill your blood."

"No, no, no," the woman sobbed, she spread her arms out wide, as if blocking the man from reaching Sammael. "Kill me!"

"If you insist," came the dry reply. Green, lots of green and the woman was no longer standing there. "Now, let's see what all the fuss is about," mused the monster as he drew near. Sammael looked up into his face. Red eyes, blood red eyes, looked down at him. But there was something strange…they weren't focused. In his dream, Sammael reached a tiny hand up, shaking a fist at the monster. The monster laughed, his eyes shifting, becoming clearer. "Lively little thing, aren't you? It's a pity, really…" then the dazed look slid back into his eyes.

"Avada kadavra" Pain flooded through him, originating in his head. He woke up screaming. He thrashed around in his bed, sobbing and whimpering, flailing at his unseen attacker. He was pinned down by strong arms.

"Shhhhh!" said a familiar voice. He was wrapped up in his father's warm embrace. He calmed down as soon as he realized what was going on. He buried his face in the shoulder of his father's silky bed robes, trying to calm his breathing. "There, there, my Little Snake. It was only a dream, my darling. Only a dream." Salazar continued to mutter calming words to him. "Open your eyes, you're safe in bed."

He'd calmed down enough, so Salazar gently laid him back down, pulling the blankets back up. He rubbed the small nine-year-old's back, smiling as he felt the tiny body relaxing beneath his hands. After several minutes, when Sammael's breathing he become deep and regular, Salazar made to rise. "NO!" Sammael had almost screamed, shooting back up and clinging to him. "Don't leave, Papa!"

Salazar had frozen, and it took Sammael a full five seconds to figure out why: it was the first time he'd ever called him that out loud, and to his face. Sammael stuttered out an apology, but Salazar had only smiled, sitting back down. When he woke up, though, Salazar wasn't anywhere to be seen. Not in his rooms, not in the dining hall. Neither Uncle God or either of his aunt had seen him. Sammael was certain that it was because of last night.

Sammael stretched on the grass, feeling the warmth of summer on his skin. He tried to put the whole thing from his mind. He reached out with his magic, feeling it react with the forest around him, with the wards of the castle…and yet he couldn't feel the familiar coolness of his Papa's aura. Nothing. He wasn't anywhere within reach. He could feel Godric in the kitchens, Helga in the medward, Rowena in the tower, Eadlin in the Chamber, he could even feel each and every one of the House Elves as they cleaned the rooms.

But where was Papa?

***1047***

Godric hated seeing his favorite (only) nephew depressed, especially on such a day as this, but he did understand that his brother was going through what was possibly the hardest decision of his life.

Over the past few years, Sammael had expressed great interest in learning, much to Rowena and Salazar's great pleasure. However, his thirst for new knowledge often lead him to wander off. When he was seven, he got several kilometers away when he was stalking a small herd of unicorns. Sammael would go on and on about traveling to other lands, studying the creatures there—dragons in particular. There weren't many dragons in Scotland. Sammael spoke about wanting to develop a ritual to allow a person to survive under water at great depths for extended periods of time, once he'd read in an obscure text about water dragons, giant squid and merpeople. To try and satisfy his darling, Salazar had offered refuge to a tribe of merpeople, who now live in the lake. And then he'd hunted and retrieved a baby giant squid (which Sammael had named Squishy) who also now called the lake 'home'.

Imagine, Godric thought to himself grimly, what little Sammy's reaction would be if he discovered he could go back to the mysterious land he'd come from: the future.

***1047***

Salazar readied his son's new chambers, it was a present from the combined magic of all four founders, and the castle herself (Which had somehow gained sentience…a fact that still creeped Godric out). Normally, this time of year, they would all be bustling about, fussing over Sammael, lavishing him with all manner of gifts and sweets. Even Rowena would join in, and she was very much against pampering Sammael, in fear of making him "soft". However, today Salazar went about his task with a grim look of resignation on his face.

Four weeks ago, he and Rowena had discovered what was so special about the amulet that had showed up with their Little Snake: The sand wasn't sand at all, but phoenix ash. He hadn't realized it until he'd come across the second part of Sammael's birthday surprise: a young phoenix, possibly only a few decades old, and it was just after a Burning Day. Salazar had willingly showed the phoenix memories (only the best, though) of his darling, convincing the beautiful beast to come with them, to possibly be a familiar for his child. Or at the very least, a protector. When the phoenix had agreed and risen from his nest, shaking off the remnants of its Burning Day, Salazar had recognized the unique quality of the substance.

Then, the strange shape of the hourglass contained inside what Sammael had told him was a "watch" or "clock". Rowena had thought it was the strange twisting shape of the hour glass that gave it the strange properties of time travel, though Salazar had suspected that, once again, it was what the glass was made out of. As someone so familiar with snakes, he'd recognized it immediately: shed basilisk skin, the faded and translucent scales crystalized by time.

Rowena had drawn up a ritual, complex and powerful. The Runic Level was beyond Advanced, and the blood magic involved would be painful, but Rowena had tested it, going forward and backwards by a few minutes, then by a few years. The amulet worked by itself, and the ritual was just as effective, but it was harder coming back. Rowena theorized that a jump as long as the one Sammael would have to make, if he should so choose, would be a one-way trip.

In other words…today, he might lose his greatest treasure. And Salazar had a hand in creating the thing that might take Sammael from him.

***1047***

"Do you want to go flying, Sammy?"

"…Not really."

"Are you sure? We've not had the chance to play on the new Quidditch pitch your Papa set up." For some reason, the boy flinched at his words, before shaking his head, negatively. "Well, how about a swim? It's quite warm this morning." Another shake of the head. "Are you hungry? I could have the elves whip up something?"

"I'm fine, Uncle."

Godric frowned, it was nearly noontime, and still Salazar was yet to make an appearance. Certainly it was tricky magic he was wrangling, but Godric had a feeling his brother was hindered by more than just difficult spellwork and warding. Godric silently cursed Slytherin, the boy knew something was off. How could he not? Of all the children in the past few years that had come and gone from their new school, Sammael was the brightest, outshining even the eldest students. He mastered charms and curses with the same ease that a bird might step off of a tower and fly. He was charming; everyone loved him. His potions were never less than perfect, and out of boredom he often _improved_ them during class. His transfiguration was now beyond even Rowena's level, and he understood runes like a second language.

How could he not realize something was wrong, when his own father was avoiding him on his birthday? "Is there anything you _do_ want to do?"

"I would like to know where my father is."

Godric winced. "Eh…well…"

Sammael's eyes light up, then narrowed. "So, you _do_ know where he is?" A raised eyebrow, the child had actually raised an eyebrow at him. Godric wasn't sure whether to laugh or cower in terror. The boy was most definitely Salazar's; he was terrifying when he wanted to be, despite the fact he was still petite for a boy of ten years.

Godric made up his mind quickly, deciding that Salazar was being cruel. "Have you no concept of the word 'surprize'?" Sammael's eyes widened. "Yes, Sammael, he's preparing a present for you."

The boy looked ashamed, and then confused. "He isn't angered with me?" There was hope in those enchanting eyes.

"Angered?" Godric asked in surprise. "Pray, tell me why you'd think that." The boy hesitated, then said smoothly

"I haven't seen him today. He's been avoiding me." Sammael looked into his Uncle's eyes. "In fact, I doubt he's even in the castle."

Godric paused, quickly trying to think up an excuse. "uhhhhh" he said eloquently. "he's, uh, well…he had to…there's a….I'm fairly certain he is…?" he said weakly. Sammael frowned, the continued walking towards his rooms. Godric helplessly watched the retreating form, wordlessly begging Salazar to hurry up.

***1047***

Sammael sat at the head table as he always did, even during the school year, between his Uncle God's and his Papa's seats. This, funnily enough, put him at the direct center of the long table, prompting his peers to jokingly refer to him as "Headmaster" or "Lord Hogwarts". It didn't help that his Uncle God had designed his seat, as his Uncle had a rather _dramatic_ taste in…pretty much everything. It looked more like a throne than anything, with its high back and intricate carvings in the dark wood. It's cushions were made from the finest silk and the top was set with emeralds which very nearly matched the color of Sammael's eyes. "Slytherin Green", the student's called it. Indeed, his father's influence left approximately one fourth of the castle decorated in "Slytherin Green". Not that any of the other founders minded; Rowena's tower was decked a beautiful blue, Godric's tower a blazing red, and Helga's area a comforting yellow and white mixture.

It was funny how much color choice could affect day to day life. Each of the founders provided a small set of dorms near their offices, so that they could easily be reached should an emergency arise. The students took the color division to heart, transfiguring their robes to match the color of their favorite 'professor', sitting only with their color, living in their chosen 'professor's' dorm. Godric loved the competitive spirit that arose from it, though Rowena and Salazar both cautioned him it was unwise, and so encouraged this behavior by calling his 'followers' his Gryffins or Lion cubs. Helga thought this funny, and so chose the Badger, her animagus form, as her symbol so that her followers had a crest as well. Rowena declared that she wouldn't be so vain as to base her entire 'house' after her own name like Gryffindor, and so declared she would represent the majestic eagle. Salazar wasn't given the chance to even decide; his students already referred to themselves as his Snakes. Though everyone knew that Sammael was his "Little Snake", much to the boy's embarrassment.

The hall was empty now, since it was summer. All the children had gone home, most needing to help with their family's farm, the rest simply missing home. So the four long tables were empty. The hall seemed so much emptier as they ate, because Salazar's seat was, once again, vacant.

Sammael glanced sorrowfully at the empty glass and plate beside his own as he pushed his food around on his plate. "Eat, Sammael" Helga said, gently. "You're still far too skinny!" Sammael gave the sweet witch a gentle smile before stabbing a piece of meat and popping it into his mouth. Though he made no move to eat anything else. Moments later, however, Sammael detected a familiar and welcome presence.

"P—Salazar is coming," he informed the rest of the table, stumbling over his words a bit. He noticed how Godric's eyes lit up as he tried to hide a mischievous grin. Helga looked content and Rowena seemed a bit…apprehensive?

The doors opened and, sure enough, his father came in. "Sammael," he greeted as he drew closer to the table. "Please, follow me." Sammael frowned, wondering what was going on, but then he rose to his feet and walked around to where his father was. Salazar was smiling, but Sammael had grown used to reading his family, and what he saw in his father's eyes frightened him. He saw pain. His father was in pain, his father was upset. Was it because of him?

"Of course, Salazar," Sammael said, his face a blank mask. Sammael was lead out of the room, leaving the others behind. He was lead up to one of the higher levels. The seventh floor to be exact. They turned left down a corridor, and Salazar stopped at a bare wall.

"I would like to see Sammael's room," Salazar said clearly before sweeping his wand back and forth three times. Sammael's eyes widened as a door appeared. A door that looked exactly like his bedroom's door. Salazar turned to his son. "I apologize for being absent all morning. Godric tells me you couldn't sense my presence? It is because of the intricate warding of this room. It will become anything you want or need, and this morning I wanted your present to be a surprise, and so the room hid me from you." Salazar opened the door, and there was Sammael's room, exactly as he had left it that morning. Complete from the unmade bed (he didn't like house elves doing things in his room) to the messy pile of used scrolls on his desk.

"This is your room now; it is technically the same room, I just moved it." Sammael couldn't help but think that this room was much further away from his father's quarters than his old one.

"I see," said Sammael carefully. "And what else can it do?"

Salazar looked pleased at the question, and he closed the door. The wall shimmered and became bare once more. "What would you like?"

Sammael thought for a moment. "I want a book on dragons," Sammael mimicked the wand movement he'd seen his father do, and once again, a door appeared. It was a different door, though: taller, and made of a lighter colored wood. Salazar opened the door, and they walked into the largest library they had ever seen. At the front, was a hearth and two couches. Between the couches was a small table, and on the table, sat a thick book. Sammael walked over to it, and picked it up.

" _To Train Your Dragon; the Pet Owner's Guide"_ Sammael read the title aloud. Then he grinned.

"No you may not," Salazar answered his son's question before the boy could ask. "And before you start pouting, know that this is not your only present. But first, my son, there is something you must know." They exited the room, and as Salazar waved his wand, not saying anything, Rowena, Godric and Helga joined them. With shared looks of secrecy that Sammael couldn't decipher, the five of them walked in. It was a bare chamber, with ritual tools lying to one side of a strange marking on the ground. A triangle with a circle traced in its middle with a line dividing the entire thing in half.

Out of his sleeve, Salazar produced an amulet, which he gently placed around his son's neck. He then surprised Sammael, by pressing a gently kiss to his forehead before drawing back. Sammael picked up the amulet and looked it over. A heavy, jeweled clock sat framed by white gold, and suspended by a chain of like metal. An engraved floral design embellished it. "This is the necklace that I found the day I came here," Sammael realized. "Back when I was called 'Freak'." Sammael frowned as he recalled those days. Then his frown deepened as he realized he'd completely forgotten about the necklace years ago, after he'd realized it wasn't around his neck the night after he'd regain consciousness. He'd only assumed it had fallen off at some point. "You've had it all this time?" Sammael realized.

"At first, it was only to repair it," Salazar told him. "And then when we learned of your travels through time, we thought that perhaps the amulet had a hand in it. After all, it gave off a strange aura."

"And did it?" Sammael asked.

"Yes," answered Rowena. "And we've discovered how to take you home." That last word felt like a slap in the face to Sammael. He _was_ home. His stomach felt like lead, his heart clenched painfully. His Papa didn't want him anymore. A ritual like this required a lot of work. How long had they been planning on getting rid of him?

"Thank you," he forced out, keeping his eyes trained on the clock face. "When do I leave?"

***1047***

"Thank you," his child said, his eyes wide as he looked at the strange amulet. "When do I leave." It's amazing how those four words seemed to destroy Salazar on the inside. He wanted to leave. Salazar gritted his teeth and took a steadying breath before replying, as though there was nothing wrong.

"As soon as you are ready," he said, contorting his mouth into, what he hoped was, an encouraging smile.

***1047***

Helga wanted to slap the two of them. I mean really! The two of them, can't ever say what they are thinking, they always have to communicate in some sort of code no one else can understand. "Of course," Helga interrupted. "If you don't want to leave, none of us will make you." She said with a meaningful look in her eyes. Sammael's gaze locked with hers, his face was totally blank. As it only was when he was trying not to cry.

For once, Godric seemed to catch on. "It sure would be lonely, flying around outside by myself. Oh well, maybe I can talk your Papa into flying with me." Sammael choked out a little laugh and Helga silently applauded Godric.

"It be a shame to lose my greatest pupil," Rowena continued. "However, if you've decided you're bored with us…"

"No!" cried Sammael. "I want to stay! The other place…with Vernon and-a-and Petunia…I don't want to go back!" He was trembling now, his hands shaking as they clutched the amulet in a death grip. The boy turned his face to his father, who was still wearing an emotionless mask. He bit his lip and looked down. "I mean…I'm sorry, you must have spent a long time on this project."

"Yes," agreed Rowena. "But that's all it was; I hope you don't misunderstand: a project. After learning that you, my child, at the age of five managed what no other has done, I wanted to match it. And so I discovered the ritual. But seeing as how you are from a different time, your father and I saw it was only fair to include you in our findings. Of course, since you don't want to go, why don't I just explain it to you, and then we can move on to that delicious cake Godric's been trying to steal since the elves made it this morning."

Sammael looked delighted, his forlorn look sliding away. But then he snuck a glance at this father, uncertainty in his eyes. "No," said Salazar decidedly. The boy's shoulder's slumped, betrayal on his face for a brief moment before his mask was back in place. "You're forgetting I have other gifts for my son, and so _Godric_ ," he sneered "will have to wait a little l— _Oof!"_ The wind was knocked out of him by a tiny body ramming into him, and a slim pair of arms wrapping around his waist.

"Thank you, Papa"

"You are welcome, Little Snake"

 **VOTE!**


	7. Chapter 7

**I'm baaack! And here are today's results!**

 **Snarry: 32**

 **Harrymort: 41**

 **Threesome: 6**

 **Harry/FemOC: 4**

 **And as for Harry's magical association**

 **Dark: 6**

 **Light: 4**

 **Grey: 19**

 **Yup, it's looking like grey, since Grey is like WAAAY ahead. Sorry for all yall that were hoping for one way or the other but…I'm still taking votes so don't give up!**

 **Also, it's going to be close for the ship! So keeping going!**

 **Just want you do know that no matter what it seems like is going on in the story right now, I AM taking all of your ideas into serious consideration. Also, the more I'm thinking about the future, the more I'm torn. About Dumbledore, that is. Should he be evil and manipulative? Or well-meaning, but kinda oblivious about Harry's situation?**

 **And to answer some questions in the reviews: Lord Voldy IS, in fact, the heir of Slytherin, though Hugo de Fole was another basilisk breeder, and so** ** _his_** **descendants would be parselmouths too ;) Yes, it is possible for Harrymort AND Grey!Harry. I'm going to decide both the Ship and the MA on your votes, regardless of what they are. If the winning ship ends up being Harrymort, and the winning MA ends up being Light!Harry, I'd do that. Really, it all depends on your reviews.**

 **Yes, Salazar WILL eventually get married and have other children. It's just that Sammael is his first, he wasn't ready to be married in the first chapter. However, I would like to point out that wizards live longer than muggles (I'm thinking the average would be around 300 years), at this point Sal is in his 40s, so he's still got a long life ahead. He's still a relatively young man. Especially since, if I'm remembering correctly, the average life expectancy in the 10** **th** **century was around 35-40. So when you put that in perspective…idk. I'm horrible at maths you figure it out. xD**

 **I think that answered all the questions, if I missed one or you have another, let me know!**

 **May the gods be ever in your favor!**

 **-James**

Sammael had never hated anyone before. Not Uncle Vernon who beat the crud out of him on a regular basis. Not Aunt Petunia who had simply stood by and watched. Certainly nobody he'd ever met in the last ten years…but he was certain he absolutely hated Lucetta Portia Tayte. He despised her with every fiber of his being. He stared at the gorgeous, dark beauty with her shapely body, long black curls and cow-like blue eyes. No, he wasn't staring. He was glaring, the look in his eyes literally sparking with angry accidental magic. He hated this witch…who had somehow enchanted his Papa.

He was sitting atop a tall ash tree, his phoenix perched on his shoulder and his basilisk familiar wrapped around his torso. Kai, his phoenix who had accepted him as a friend on his tenth birthday, sympathetically crooned, pulling at Sammael's hair with his golden beak. His brilliant feathers, under a disillusionment charm so that they were not spotted, flashed a melancholy muted orange and white, unlike his normally blazing reds and gold. Besnik, his familiar had been gifted to him when the serpent king was but an egg, once again on his tenth birthday. Salazar had taught him how to spell a toad to "warm" the egg, never moving from its spot. Besnik had hatched two months later, only five inches long, barely a centimeter wide. At birth, his scales had been a pale grey-blue. As he matured, they'd become a dark green. Now, the adolescent basilisk was almost six years old, nearing ten feet in length, and was as wide around as one of Sammael's thighs. Of course, this didn't stop the almost 100 pound snake from draping itself around his master's body.

Not that it bothered Sammael. Truly, he'd been blessed by the deities of luck in his tenth year, for that was truly the best year of his life. For after he'd been gifted the basilisk egg and the phoenix friend, he'd been offered the greatest gift he'd ever received: Salazar had blood adopted him. While he was still lithe and wiry, his body lean and graceful like a snake's, he was no longer small and pathetic looking. He, at sixteen years and ten months, was nearing six feet in height. Not a giant, but certainly not small. A good deal of muscle was packed to his frame. His skin was still pale, his eyes the same unnerving shade of "Slytherin Green". His hair was slightly less unruly, instead handing straight like his Papa's down his back, tied into a tail. He was a strong lad, influenced by his Uncle, he'd taken to physical exertion, enjoying long treks through the forest, climbing trees and bluffs, swimming in the lake and exploring the various caves. So he was well equipped to handle the heavy serpent who was muttering in his ear.

" ** _I can eat her if you'd like_** " his loyal familiar told him, every bit of him deadly serious. Sammael considered the offer, stroking the underside of Besnik's jaw. Lady Tayte was laughing at something Papa had said, her arm looped through one of his own. For some unearthly reason, Salazar actually looked pleased. " ** _Though I'll bet she tastes horrible."_**

" ** _I appreciate your offer, my friend_** ," said Sammael, responding in like tongue. " ** _But I have the strangest feeling that Papa would resent that course of action_**." Kai scoffed at this, shuffling his wings. He could understand parseltongue, even though he couldn't speak it. Instead, he projected his thoughts directly into Besnik and Sammael's minds.

" ** _I do not see the appeal of this Tayte woman_** ," he said loftily. " ** _She's as shallow as a creek in drought. All face, no substance. But then, if Master Slytherin is only courting her to bare heirs that is a useful trait: No one likes ugly babies_**."

" ** _My Papa already has an heir_**!" Sammael hissed, filled with hurt, envy and apprehension. " ** _ME_**!" But what if he wasn't good enough for Papa? Of course Salazar would want his own flesh and blood to inherit his legacy. Who was Sammael, if not some urchin orphan taken in by a respected and kindhearted Lord? Adoptive children never became legitimate heirs…even if they _were_ bound by magic and blood now, Sammael wasn't Salazar's true son. Sammael bit his lower lip, his heart clenching painfully. Kai hummed softly, nuzzling Sammael with his forehead. Besnik tapped his master's cheek with his nose, swiping the fair skin with his forked tongue, as if checking for any damage that was causing the obvious pain shown on the young man's face.

" ** _What if we asked the centaurs to kidnap her_**?" suggested Kai.

" ** _I thought phoenix kind were supposed to be wise_** ," said Sammael sullenly. " ** _That would start an unnecessary conflict_**."

" _ **I have no love for Lady Tayte**_ ," said Besnik " ** _But I do not see why you are so upset about her appearance. You father certainly seemed to appreciate her presence. And you love children, you get along so well with the students here. Why wouldn't you want siblings of your own_**?" Sammael sighed. As helpful as his two best friends usually were, they didn't understand many human concepts, such as heirs or family. Phoenixes didn't have flocks, and basilisks were solitary creatures when they were not in a familiar bond with a wizard. Even Besnik hardly interacted with Eadlin, Salazar's twenty-three-foot familiar.

" ** _Because if they had any sons, I would become expendable_** " replied Sammael simply. It was the logical train of thought. The main reason why he was loath to call the witch 'family', no matter how his father felt about her. However, if he was truly being logical, he would admit to himself that Lucetta wasn't as air-headed as he liked to think, in fact she was a fairly intelligent and extremely powerful witch. Though, she was nowhere near the level either Sammael or Salazar were at. She wasn't even at Helga's level. So, clearly, any child she bore would be inferior to Sammael.

Not that Sammael would ever, _ever_ voice his opinion to his Papa. He preferred the days of years prior, when Salazar ferociously shattered any thought of him ever marrying. When it was just the two of them…and Uncle God and his Aunties…and the fifty-some students who attended. Uncle God had been married when Sammael was eleven, to a pretty little witch named Sophitia. Helga was in an on-again off-again courtship with Lord Hugo. Even Rowena had married three years ago, to a man named Altair. Sammael was the proud "Uncle" of three children; A pair of twins from Godric: Gethin and Hume Gryffindor. And Rowena had a daughter named Helena.

Perhaps Salazar was feeling left out? Yes, that was why he was courting Lucetta. It would pass soon, it was just a fickle fancy. It would disappear like a bad dream and everything would go back to normal. After all, Salazar had no need of any heirs. Not when he had Sammael!

***1047***

(four months later)

Sammael kept his face a delighted mask as he watched the wedding ritual take place. He wore his best, white robes. Kai sat perched on his arm, which was elegantly held in front of him. Besnik was coiled up near his boots, which had been shined to perfection by the house elves. Nearly then entire wizarding community was in attendance at the wedding of Lucetta Tayte and Salazar Slytherin. The ceremony was nearly over; the vows had already been exchanged, the magic taken hold. All that was needed was the bride's accent.

"…to cherish and love, under guidance and protection of Magic, by the witnesses of those gathered, so mote it be?"

"So mote it be."

Cheers erupted all around. Uncle God was actually standing on his seat, throwing his hands up into the air. Sammael smiled at his father, and applauded lightly. Salazar was so preoccupied with his new bride, that he hadn't noticed the unnatural tightness of his son's lips, nor the tense stance he was holding.

Nor the tears that were threatening to spill from his eyes.

His Papa wasn't his anymore. His Papa had promised himself to someone else, a virtual stranger no less. To Sammael anyway; he'd only known the woman for a few months, not even yet a year. But Salazar had known her in his youth, back when they were both persecuted for their abnormality. Sammael had never even spoken to her. In fact, he'd hardly spoken to his father since _she_ happened. Sammael stroked his phoenix, feeling the calming magic take over him, giving him the strength he needed to manage his keep his composure the rest of the night. After all, there was still the ball he had to attend.

***1047***

It was nearing midnight, and the ball was still in full throws, not showing signs of stopping anytime soon. But Sammael had left the party. He'd gotten sick of having random Lords, Barons and Counts come up and introduce their progeny—usually their daughters, but there were a fair few sons—all of whom were marrying age. It was to be expected, really, now that Sammael was 17. He was a man. It was his duty to marry and carry on the Slytherin line.

But did he really need to? After all, new heirs were bound to follow this union between his Father and the witch he'd chosen as a bride. Sammael lay on his bed. Kai was sitting on his perch, preening. Besnik lay stretched out on top of Sammael, knowing that the 'cuddles' brought the young man comfort. Sammael's fingers lazily drew patterns in the smooth scales.

He was so trapped in his thoughts, he hadn't realized anyone had entered his room until his Father seated himself on the edge of his bed. A warm, loving hand rested upon Sammael's forehead, slowly smoothing the hairs back. " ** _Little Snake_** ," Salazar said quietly. " ** _Why are you hiding_**?"

" ** _What makes you think I am hiding, Father_**?" came the reply. " ** _It is late, and I grew tired. Surly you cannot fault me that_**."

" ** _No,_** " agreed Salazar. "But I can fault you for avoiding me these last few months" he said in English. "I've missed you, my **_Little One._** " No emotion registered on Sammael's face, but painful turmoil raged just beneath the surface. Salazar pretended not to notice, continuing to card his fingers through his son's soft hair. " ** _Why do you not speak to me anymore? Why haven't you joined us with meals? You're outside more often than naught, and you've stopped coming down to my Chamber to help me with potions."_**

"You've no need of my help," Sammael said, his voice steady only through extreme power of will. "You've your Lady Wife." Salazar was silent, his hand moving from his son's hair to the pale cheek, which he stroked with a finger. His brows were drawn, his lips in a tight frown.

He leaned down to place a gentle kiss on his son's face, before slowly standing. Just before he left the room, he turned to face his son. " ** _No matter the blessings that I have been given, nor the treasures I shall receive,_** " Salazar's face grew uncharacteristically soft. " ** _Always know, Little Snake, that you were the first_**."

***1047***

(Four years later)

Sammael, a handsome, well-accomplished, renowned and respected wizard of twenty-one years, chased his little brother around the room, laughing like an idiot. Selwyn, a toddling three-year-old, shrieked in glee as he flew on his miniature broom. Synnove, a beautiful baby girl of eighteen months, watched her brothers with wide eyes from the high seat she was stuck to with a Sticking Charm.

"I've got you!" Sammael declared, scooping up his brother, tossing him high up into the air. Selwyn wriggled and giggled, flapping his arms like he was trying to fly.

" ** _KILL YOU_**!" cackled the tiny boy. Sammael grinned. His baby brother was already showing signs of being a psychopath, and he couldn't be prouder. Of course, he'd been the one to teach his brother to shout random threats in parseltongue. It's what any responsible big brother would do when his younger siblings first started showing signs of being able to communicate in a dead tongue.

The fact that their mother couldn't understand a word made it that much better.

Sammael no longer despised the thought of his step-mother, in fact he found she made for good conversation once he'd decided to try speaking with her (the first time was about half way through her first pregnancy). Much to his Father's delight, Sammael took his role as big brother very seriously (well, _enthusiastically,_ anyway.)

" ** _Ssh_** _"_ came the irritated voice of Kai, who was nearing his Burning Day, and therefore very irritable. " ** _I'm trying to sleep…_** "

" ** _Lazy old fire goose_** ," yawned Besnik who was stretched out in front of the hearth.

The lot of them stayed like that for a good while: the humans playing and the two beasts lounging about. Until a sound of intense arguing reached his ears. "I'm not saying that!" Salazar's voice echoed in the corridors. "I ask you to not place words in my mouth for me, _Brother!"_

"Then tell me, _Brother_ ," came Godric's voice. "Just what ARE you saying?"

"That they shouldn't be allowed to LEAVE!" Salazar roared. "It's not safe! Burnings are happening everyday!"  
"So?" came Godric's irritated voice. "Mundane fire holds no harm for our kind!"

" _So_ " mocked Salazar "The Mundanes are catching on! They aren't just BURNING anymore! They are decapitating! Draw and quartering! Spearing, drowning, locking up and STARVING the magical children! And _then_ they are burning the bodies! What? Did you really think that a fact as obvious as fire not harming certain children would go unnoticed for long?"

"We can't just take them away from their families."

"YES! YES WE CAN! WE'VE GOT A BLOODY CASTLE! THERE'S PLENTY OF ROOM TO HOUSE THE MUNDANE-BORNES!"  
"THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEANT AND YOU SARDING WELL KNEW IT!"

Sammael, as much as he wanted to know what was going on, didn't want his siblings to hear their father this out of control. He cast a Muffliato at the door, then turned back to his sister, who had started to cry, startled at the noise.

"It's fine, Synnove, I promise. They'll stop soon," Sammael cooed to the baby, silently praying that what he spoke was true.


	8. Chapter 8

**Firstly, I want to thank everyone who reviewed. I'm not going to bore you with personal details, but I was going through a rather hard time this morning, and I was growing very depressed. However when I turned on my computer and saw all the notifications…you guys are my lifeline right now, and I can't say how grateful I am. Here's to thank all you wonderful people.**

 **And as for the poles!**

 **Snarry: 52**

 **Harrymort: 69**

 **Threesome: 10**

 **Harry/FemOC: 4**

 **And as for Harry's magical association**

 **Dark: 9**

 **Light: 17**

 **Grey: 45**

 **Looks like it'll be Grey!Harry. But, wow, Threesome idea is picking up steam…And as for one of Harry's siblings going with him…idk, I hadn't thought of that. I kinda like the idea though… Idk, maybe. Wasn't what I had in mind, but I'm not opposed. Acutally, now that I'm thinking about it, I like the idea of Harry/Sammael with a baby.**

 **I HAVE always liked Daddy-Harry stories…**

 **But then again, I'm already adding a major twist to the sequal…so (evil laugh) hope you guys continue to like my story! Also, I know I said previously that he wouldn't be going back to his own time for a while…but I think it's going to be sooner than I originally anticipated.**

 **Just some random info, I took a Sorting quiz and I'M A SLYTHERPUFF!**

 **Love you guys, and may the odds be ever in your favor,**

 **-James**

(OMG 10,000 hits?!)

***1047***

Sammael lounged in his room, which was currently in the form of a small, but comfortable, library. Helena Ravenclaw, currently five years old, was sitting on a large chair to the left of him, her little nose buried in a large tome. Rowena had never taken her husband's name, and so Helena bore her mother's, as did all of her sisters, though her brother had taken his father's. Helena made for good company; she was quiet and thoughtful, and when she asked questions they were always very deep, mature ones for one so young.

Sammael thought back to when he was Helena's age, and shook his head. Even _he_ hadn't been such an old soul, and his Father oft teased him of being an old man in a young man's body. Sammael watched his cousin (or niece, depending on who you asked) for a moment, before turning back to his own tome. It was an interesting text on necromancy, a skill that Sammael and Salazar were working on together in their spare time. It came easily to Sammael, a fact that filled his Father with a strange combination of envy, fury and pride, since Salazar wasn't as predisposed for the art.

Kai was perched on the back of the couch Sammael was laying on, his legs stretched out, and crossed one over the other. His long braid was tossed over one shoulder. Godric's son, seven-year-old Hume enjoyed playing with it, and often begged to be allowed to plaid it, as he had this morning. Thus, the reason why thin strands of silver threads were woven in with his dark, raven hair. Shorter strands that hadn't been long enough for the braid framed Sammael's face. Besnik lay curled up on top of him, enjoying the warmth that came from his beloved human.

Sleeping in a cradle nearby, was Synnove, Sammael' infant sister. Sammael was absently using his magic to rock her in her sleep. Selwyn sat on the floor in front of the hearth, playing with Eadlin, their father's basilisk. The Gryffindor twins were also with them, though they were running through the aisles of books, silently screaming (Sammael had cast a Silencio on the both of them some time ago). Helga's toddler, a girl named Lizbeth, was brushing a doll's hair next to Helena on the couch.

Helga had left for the day, deciding that she and her husband needed to visit the Beauxbaton family, who were starting their own small school, in France. Rowena was on a journey in the mountains, searching for some rare flower she needed for a ritual. Lady Slytherin (Sammael refused to call her mother, despite now being on good terms with her), who was pregnant with her third child, was too…round…to walk much, and was instead being tended in her chambers by a mediwitch from nearby.

Godric and Salazar were down in the valley below Hogwarts with Godric's youngest, a four year old girl named Lilith and a five year old girl named Agape. The two men had been fighting for months, arguing whether it was or wasn't safe to allow Mundanebornes to go back into their native areas, back to their families. Godric didn't feel it was right to simply steal away a child from their family as soon as they showed signs of magic. And Salazar didn't trust Mundanes to not kill their own progeny, simply because they were magical. In Sammael's opinion, they were both right. And this was why he resolved to stay out of the conflict as much as possible (his Aunts had long ago come to the same conclusion).

But, they had reached a compromise. They were building a village for their students to live in, where their families could visit. Hogsmeade, they were calling it. Though due to Salazar's stubbornness, no Mundanes could actually set up residence there. And any magical child who didn't WANT to return home was allowed to stay there with an appointed wizarding family. Even though Godric wasn't entirely happy with this, he was still understandably excited.

Hogsmeade would be the first ever, Magical Village: A haven for wizarding kind.

Of course, it then fell to Sammael to watch the young ones, since Salazar didn't trust house Elves with them (the little creatures were far too prone to spoiling the little monsters), and Godric didn't trust his boys not to drive the nursemaids insane (a remarkably wise decision on his part). Helena refused to be in the same room as her brother (whom she hated) as he was constantly with his best friend, the son of a nearby Baron (whom Helena hated even more), and so she was "hiding" with "Dear cousin Mael". Helga had personally asked Sammael to watch _her_ monsters, since he was "already doing such a fine job" with the rest. Originally, Lilith and Agape were going to be in his care as well, but they had begged their father to let them come see the new villiage.

Sammael sighed, turning a page. He didn't mind, not really. He loved his cousins dearly. It was moments like this, when Sammael wondered if he wanted to marry after all. His Papa was certain he'd find someone eventually, and he'd settle down, have a big family…

But Sammael had never been even remotely interested in anyone who'd been offered to him in marriage (which had been a fair few). Though, he wouldn't mind raising a child, he wasn't so sure he wanted to do it alone. And yet, he abhorred the thought of marrying. How could he ever trust someone so fully? Sammael snorted at the thought. He was a Slytherin, and Slytherins didn't go around trusting people. Sammael trusted his Papa, completely and without reserve…but he was the only one; Not his Uncle, not even his Aunts. Sammael even sometimes found himself wondering if he _should_ trust his Father as much as he did.

But he did. Simple as that.

"Mael?" called his little brother from the fireplace. He was sticking his hands in, and watching the flames lick around them in amusement. "I'm hungry." Sammael rolled his eyes. His brother was always hungry. As a matter of fact, they'd had lunch not even an hour ago. With a chuckle, Sammael called for Maemi, his personal house elf. With a _crack_ she appeared with a sweeping bow.

"Hows I be helping dear master?" she asked, her snout-like nose practically scraping the floor.

"Please bring up a light snack for the children, with water or milk to drink," Sammael instructed. Maemi disapparated back to the kitchens. Sammael set his book to the side and stood, brushing Besnik off of him, then picked up Synnove, who was starting to wake. He sat back down, cradling his sister, making stupid faces at her to keep her from crying. Maemi came back with two other elves to serve the children. They were half way through, when a familiar mountain lion patronus flew into his room through the wall.

It opened its mouth, and when it spoke, it was Uncle God's voice ringing out loud, and panicked "Sammael! Quickly! Come to the village, your assistance is needed!" Sammael very nearly jumped to his feet, only remembering to put his sister down first at the last moment.

"Hume, Gethin!" Sammael called out. As soon as the twins skidded into view, he cancelled the Silencio on them. "Helena, watch the younger ones. I will return shortly. _DO not leave this room!_ " Helena gave a solemn nod as the Gryffindor twins began to bombard their cousin with questions that Sammael wasn't giving a chance to answer. He didn't notice a basilisk patronus entering behind him, as he threw open the door, calling out " _Accio broom"_ as he went.

" ** _Sammael! Do not come to the village_**." The basilisk ordered in parseltongue before dissipating. But Sammael was already gone, he hadn't heard. The children looked form one to another in apprehension.

"Should we go after him?" asked Hume.

"But who's right?" asked Gethin. "His Papa, or ours?"

"It doesn't matter," said Helena solemnly, picking her book back up, returning her eyes to the page. "He ordered us not to leave this room, and so we won't. And seeing as how none of us can properly cast a corporeal patronus…"

"We _of course_ we can't," said Gethin, his eyebrow twitching.

"We're seven,' finished his twin. Helena only rolled her eyes, not answering.

***1047***

Sammael's mind was racing. What could be going on? Why was Uncle God calling him down? He willed his broom to go faster, cursing the damn apparition wards the entire way. He cleared the treeline of the Dark Forest, and dread filled his gut.

Fire. Hogsmeade was on fire. A muttered "Papa" escaped him, but he hardly noticed as he redoubled his speed. The stink of smoke was heavy in the air. The rising black cloud on the horizon was hot, he could feel it already and he was still several hundred meters away. He hit the ground running, tossing the broom away. His robes were flaring out as he ran, his hair streaming behind him. "Papa!" he called out, choking on the air.

His eyes were stinging, his coughed, squinting as he looked around. Where was everybody? He closed his eyes and listened. Amid the sound of cracking wood and collapsing buildings, he heard voices. Raised voices. A lot of them, muted by distance and distorted by interference of the area. Sammael charged, gracefully leaping over any obstacles. The voices grew louder, more clear. "…filthy heathen! Marring our land with your wickedness! May God have mercy on your souls, for we have none!" Sammael's heart stilled in his chest.

Horrible images long buried in his mind resurfaced. "Freak!" Vernon's voice rose from the depths of his conscious. "You'll burn in hell!"

"We've done you no harm!" Godric. That was definitely Godric's voice. "Please, be reasonable!"

"Reasonable? Ha!" said one voice which rose above the others, which were shouting various abuse at Sammael's family. The young man halted as he turned a corner. Mundanes. Farmers most of them. But there were so many. Soldiers were among them as well. There was even a priest. If Sammael wasn't so scared, he would have laughed. Sammael wasn't sure whether to be glad or frustrated that the residences of the village hadn't moved in yet, seeing as how Hogsmeade was still in construction. There was a team of three wizards there, who had been working on construction, not including Godric and Salazar. Bows and arrows were trained on the men, but that's not why the wizards weren't defending themselves or the village. It was because, in the grasp on a soldier with a knife to her throat, was Lilith.

Sammael saw red. He cast a quick disillusionment spell over himself, then he charged out into the square. He danced around the men, who were still jeering and snarling at the wizards. "You've stolen our children," continued the man who had been shouting loudest before. "And contaminated them with your ways of witchcraft. The Lord declared this an abomination! And for witches to be burned!" The soldier holding Lilith pressed the knife deeper, as famer held a torch close to her fair face.

Then, Sammael was upon them. He _accioed_ the knife away from the man, then used _aguamenti_ over the lot of them. Their torches were put out. Sammael _stupefied_ again and again, occasionally throwing in a more painful curse or jinx, to punish the fools who dare threaten his family. In a matter of seconds, Lilith was safely clinging to her older cousin's back. The other wizards had begun to fight back as well, not that Lilith was no longer in mortal danger.

Sammael cast every protection spell he knew on the little girl. "Run to your father, but first: where is your sister?" a look of terror overtook Lilith's face.

"They said they were punishing her," she said, tears in her eyes now spilling down her face. "They took her. I don't know where!" racking sobs shook her fragile frame.

"Hush, now," Sammael ordered with all the gentleness of a big brother. "Go to your Papa, and tell mine that I've things to do." With that, Sammael spun around, setting serpents on the men closest to him with _Serpensortia._ "Point me, Agape Gryffindor" he said to his wand. It spun around in his palm, then pointed sharply to his left. Sammael turned and ran, following his want like a compass.

"Guppy!" Sammael cried, the wand was pointing directly at a burning house. The roof was collapsed, as was the entryway. It was blazing harder than any other structure. It was obviously doused in something to make the flame spread quicker. He repaired the doorway, though it promptly fell again. " _Wingardium Leviosa!"_ he chanted, then flicked the debris out of the way. But more quickly took its place. With a growl of determination, Sammael sprinted towards the building, and dove in, climbing his way, clawing and pushing through the broken, collapsing stone and wood. The fire itself licked him warmly, it didn't burn. However, the hot stone seared his flesh. The wood splintered and cut him. The roof collapsed once more, after he cleared he entryway, it landed directly on top of him. " _Protego"_ he coughed out. The debris fell harmlessly around him, but it piled up around him. " _Bombarda!"_ he blasted a path clear.

"Guppy!" he called for the little girl. "Where are you?"

"Mae!" He wanted to cry in relief. Her voice sounded hoarse, but strong enough.

"Guppy, where are you?"

"Here! Help me, I can't move!" Sammael cast _aguamenti_ at every turn, shielding spells were used to hold up the walls.

"I'm coming, just hold still," Sammael saw her, her own accidental magic keeping a shield up around her. She was in a corner of a room, tied up, stones from the wall and beams from the ceiling moments away from crushing her. He blew it all apart, then scooped her up into his arms. "It's alright, I've got you."

"Mae…" Agape whimpered. Her golden curls were matted with soot and sweat. Sammael ran a hand through them, soothing her, wishing the wards didn't prevent him from apparating.

" _Protego! Bombarda!"_ He blasted a hole in the wall, after throwing up a shield around them. Unfortunately, it wasn't an outside wall like he had thought. But it was a structural wall, panicking, Sammael did then only thing he could think to do in the split second he had to think.

He threw her as the outer wall crumbled. She cleared it, but only just in time. "Mae!" he heard her shriek. He didn't manage to hear anything else.

***1047***

Mundanes…how on earth…they…they were wizards, Mundanes shouldn't have been, couldn't have been responsible for this. And yet they were. His darling, his heir, his first son, his sweet **_Little Snake_** , had been crushed under several hundred pounds of rubble, in a fire that had been started by a torch of a MUNDANE. And a famer no less.

Salazar tenderly held the limp, bruised hand, staring into the pale, listless face. With his other hand, he brushed loose hair back, carding his fingers through it like he used to do so often when Sammael was younger. He should have been prepared for this. He was prepared for nearly everything. But of course, he hadn't counted on a hostage, nor on his own wards preventing help from coming in. He'd been so _stupid_ , so incredibly _moronic_. It was his own arrogance that caused this. He never, never once since being rescued by Godric, imagined that Mundanes would or could ever threaten him again. So while Hogsmeade and Hogwarts could withstand against any number of wizards, even a certifiable army, they were helpless to Mundanes…and now that Salazar's eyes had been properly opened, he felt only fear. He realized for the first time since childhood, how horribly outnumbered they were.

Not just them, but all of wizard kind. The Mundanes had to die. Salazar looked down at the still face of his most treasured child (not that he'd ever tell Lucetta that). And he made a silent promise to make them all pay.

Painfully.

"He'll make a full recovery," Helga informed him, coming up, brushing a lone tear out of a corner of her eye. "You've got a good boy here, Sal," she said, her voice wavering slightly. "He'll be okay." Salazar nodded stiffly, not moving his eyes from the still form on the bed. He couldn't help but think how small his boy looked, even though time had healed his malnourished form.

"How soon will he be awake?" Salazar asked quietly.

"I don't know," came the equally quiet reply.

"Will he be okay?" both adults turned around to look at the small, pale form standing a few feet away. Agape stood in her nightdress, her bare feet poking out from the bottom. Her long golden curls loose and her large brown eyes wide with curiosity and guilt. Salazar knew she blamed herself as much as he himself did for the state his son was in.

"Yes," Salazar told her gently. "He will."


	9. Chapter 9

**Day 10 of Son of Salazar! Thanks to all of you who have been here since day 1! (Andy for those of you who came after, I still lovez you!)**

 **Snarry: 61**

 **Harrymort: 80**

 **Threesome: 12**

 **Harry/FemOC: 4**

 **And as for Harry's magical association**

 **Dark: 11**

 **Light: 17**

 **Grey: 42**

 **I battle depression, though life is getting better, for those of you who asked. I can't even tell you how wonderful you all are, and how much your support means to me. I love reading your reviews, and it's one of the things I look forward to every day. You're all lovely people, and I hope you like this next chapter.**

 **Yeah, I think you're all right, it wouldn't make much sense for him to bring a human with him. Though he is taking Besnik and Kai. Pooey on those of you who don't like that :P**

 **And to the random person who reviewed in what I think was Portuguese:** **Fico feliz que você goste! Mas eu não falo português...I think I said that right...**

 **To Shunshu:** **¡Muchas gracias! Tengo la intención de complacer :)**

 **(Don't judge me if what I said was totally off...I can't barely speak english as it is, xD LOL**

 **May the gods be ever i** **n your favor**

 **-James**

Sammael groaned as he slowly woke up. His head was pounding, and his skin felt like it'd been scraped raw. A small head was laying on his chest, making it a tad difficult to breathe. Agape lay sleeping, curled up into his side. He ran his fingers through her silky hair. She shifted slightly, but remained fast asleep. Sammael looked around; He was in the medward. Thick blankets were lovingly tucked around him, a soft pillow placed under his head. The room was empty except for himself and his little cousin. Sammael found this somewhat odd, usually Helga would be bustling about like a mother hen.

Sammael racked his mind, closing his eyes tightly, trying to figure out what the heck had happened. He remembered the Mundanes attacking. The burning of Hogsmeade. Saving Lilith. Agape…in the collapsing building. Rubble falling… Sammael craned his head to examine Agape, checking her over for any signs of physical damage. When he was satisfied she wasn't hurt, he laid back down.

He had almost managed to fall back asleep, when the doors of the medward opened. Two voices were heard drawing nearer: his Aunts'. Sammael kept his eyes closed, not wanting to be fretted over, just wanting to rest; he felt somewhat worn. "That idiot" Helga was saying, if Sammael hadn't been pretending to be asleep, he would have raised an eyebrow. It wasn't everyday you heard sweet Helga insulting someone like that. Especially with that level of venom in her voice. "Trying to negotiate, after what they've done to poor Sammael!" Sammael stiffened. Was it Papa? Please, please don't let them be talking about Papa.

"I tried to speak reason into him," said Rowena. "But he blames himself for Sammael's condition. He's sure it was all a misunderstanding. The blind fool, he always wants to think the best of everybody. In any event, he's trying, in his own way, to prevent anything like this from happening again."

"They have already proven that we can't live side by side with them!" Helga raged. "Let us leave them alone!"

"I know, sister, it's not me that deserves to be scolded. Besides, Salazar is already on his way. He'll drag Godric back by his toes if he has to. Salazar despised Mundanes before. But now that his dearest child was so damaged by the Mundanes, he's not just hateful; He's fearful. And fear leads men to do desperate things."

' _Damaged_?' Sammael thought. ' _How am I damaged_?"

The women were silent. "I see that Agape is yet to leave his side," noted Rowena. "Has there been no change?"

"No," said Helga. "His own magic tried to heal him while the stones were still crushing him, while the beams were holding open the cuts. He completely drained himself. The scar on his face will never fade, I fear. Though I was able to mend much of the others; they weren't as serious. His bones are still brittle though. It will take a good few steady meals and regular doses of potion to change that. Kai even wept over him, but his tears did nothing. That can only mean there was nothing left to heal. His phoenix and his snake were so distraught, I had to lock them in his chamebrs. But as for when he will wake up…" Her voice broke, trailing off. And then, to Sammael's alarm, he heard her begin to sob.

Quickly, Sammael opened his eyes. "I'm awake!" he blurted out before he could think twice. Then he blushed. "What happened?" he asked, gently removing Agape from on top of him and placing her down onto his pillow. He stumbled from his bed, to put his arms around Helga.

"You-you-you…Oh!" Helga was trying to glare at him, but the relief and pure joy in her eyes quite off balanced it. She embraced him fiercely. "You little rascal!" she chided, still crying. "You've been asleep for over a week!" she said, not letting go of her beloved nephew. "We were beginning to think….I feared…" She heaved a shuddering sigh.

"Your father was most upset," Rowena said, a faraway look in her eyes. "I would send off a patronus, to inform him of your recovery." Then she paused to look at him, sternly. "When did you wake?"

"Not but a few moments ago," Sammael said honestly. "What is it that Papa and Uncle God are up to?" he hesitated before asking. "And what do you mean I'm damaged?"

Helga bit her bottom lip. "Well, Godric left for the Mundane village this morning. We'd gotten word of a young babe there, who was found levitating in his crib. Godric meant to negotiate with the Mundanes for the child. He wants them to understand that we aren't evil. Salazar was furious when he found out. It was the first time since you were injured that he left your side." Then she conjured up a mirror with a defeated looking sigh. Sammael peered into it, and his eyes widened at what he saw.

It was still very much his face, but there was a ragged line of barely healed scar tissue, ugly, rippled and brown, that stretched from the top left side of his forehead and stretched down diagonally to the far right corner of his lips. Sammael traced it with his fingers, pushing back his hair. The small, lightning shaped scar he'd always had was no longer visible, hidden by the warped flesh. Sammael, while the distortion of the flesh wasn't _pleasant_ , he didn't think it ruined his appearance enough for him to be considered _damaged_.

"Does it look that bad?" Sammael asked, uncertainly.

Rowena's lips gave a slight twitch. " _I_ think it makes you look fierce."

Helga shook her head, tutting with a slight chuckle, but then she grew solemn once more. "That was only a small amount, my dear," she said regretfully. "Your magic was so drained; I fear you may have lost it. There wasn't an ounce left in you. I've never heard of something happening before like this." Sammael's heart dropped to his stomach. No, gods above and deamons beneath _NO_. Salazar only adopted him because he was powerful.

"I'm no longer a wizard?" Sammael asked, his voice quiet and shaking. Helga was about to answer, but Sammael's sudden movement cut her off. " _Accio wand!"_ he cried. And for a moment, he felt nothing.

"Sammael…"Helga said softly, comfortingly, spreading her arms to take him in an embrace once more, but the young man moved away, only shouting with more force, putting every ounce of will, every messed up emotion he was feeling, all of his fear and anger and desperation, into the simple summoning spell.

" _Accio wand!"_ he cried so loudly that Agape woke up. Nothing.

And then

The wand flew from where Helga had stashed it in a cupboard, throwing open the door and landing neatly in Sammael's hand. Relief coursed through him. " _Expecto Patronum"_ a white mist collected at the wands tip. Sammael closed his eyes and called up his happiest memory: the day of his blood adoption. " _Expecto Patronum"_ he said, his voice calm and steady. The familiar silver stag came easily this time. It galloped once around the room, then disappeared through a wall as Sammael willed it to go fetch his Papa.

Rowena smiled, looking at Helga. "I told you there was nothing to worry about." She smiled proudly at Sammael. "Our little warrior is a survivor."

"It's harder now," Sammael said, examining his hands, as if looking for any change that there might have been.

"You're still drained," said Rowena. "Do little magic for the next few days, rest a lot, and eat your fill. You'll be fine."

***1047***

The cousins were all overjoyed to have Sammael back among them. The house elves were visibly relieved as well, as during supper that night they tended to his every whim, topping off his glass every time he took a sip, refilling his plate before it was even empty, serving all of his favorite foods. Kai sat perched on the back of his high chair, and Besnik was curled happily around his feet. It would have been a perfect time, had Godric and Salazar been present.

"Where is the village that they went to?" Sammael asked Helga.

She chewed her lip. "About a days ride north for a Mundane. Though Godric and Salazar would have apparated. They should have been back before the dinner at noon." Sammael frowned.

"Did they take reinforcements with them?" he asked, remembering how outnumbered they were the week previous, when he'd been attacked. Rowena shook her head, Lord Hugo, the man courting her, took her hand lovingly, frowning at the forlorn expression on her face. Lady Tayte looked worried as well. Sammael sent a small smile her way, which she valiantly tried to return.

Selwyn sat upon his older brother's knee. "Papa will be okay," he said with the unwavering faith of a child. "He's the greatest and powerfullest of anyone!" he declared with a firm nod of the head, as if that was simply that. His innocence made the adults at the table laugh, and the children of the other founders protest.

"Selwyn Slytherin," his mother scolded. "Eat your sprouts." Selwyn pouted as he poked the Brussel sprouts with his utensils. Sammael happened to like them, so he simply started eating them off his brother's plate. "Sammael…" Lucetta sighed in exasperation.

"Yes, my Lady?" he asked innocently. Selwyn giggled as he stole some of Sammael's dessert. "Hey!"

The conversation became light hearted after that, and stayed that way until bedtime.

***1047***

 ***-Warning-*: Blood and Gore**

Godric screamed in anguish once more, cursing himself. He clutched the cold corpse of his brother and rocked them both in rhythm with his cries. He could barely allow himself to believe what he had seen, what he was seeing, what he knew to be true.

Salazar was dead.

Godric held the cold body close to his chest, embracing it, murmuring apologies that Salazar would never hear. Slytherin's head lolled into the crook of Godric's neck, blood covered both of them. Though all of it was Salazar's. Godric couldn't calm himself down, even though there was still a small, quiet rational voice in the back of his mind, his body wouldn't obey him. His heart was tearing itself in two. No, please, not his brother.

Godric remembered the first time they'd met. Godric had been eleven, Salazar had been nine. His own parents were tying him to a burning stake, dumping a bottle of cheap beer on his bare body. Other villagers were throwing bundles on kindling onto a growing pile at the young boy's feet. At first Godric was frozen with confusion, what was going on? Was it some strange Mundane practice? But why had they striped the boy bare? Then, as Godric crept closer, he realized that the boy had been whipped. Red lash markings decorated his tiny frame. His ribs were poking through his skin, his cheeks were gaunt and terror was in his eyes. A gag was wrapped around his head and shoved in his mouth.

An official looking man held up a burning torch. "Salazar Slytherin. You have been sentenced this day, under accusations of: performing the Dark Arts, consorting with the Evil One and practicing witchcraft. If you confess now, your soul may be spared. Nevertheless, this day you shall pay for your sins, and may the good Lord have mercy upon you."

The boy, Salazar, had shaken his head fervently, tears running down his cheeks. Muffled screams pierced he air. Almost smugly, the man lowered the torch and set the boy a flame. Or rather, set the wood a flame. The fire barely touched Salazar at all. That was when Godric realized what was happening: the boy was a wizard. Godric was angry for the boy, all the while he couldn't help but feel that the Mundanes were simply stupid; They didn't understand. Godric had truly believed that what they did, they did out of ignorance.

But he pushed those thoughts aside, right now, he needed to help that boy. Without thinking twice, he charged out, hollering a war cry. He waved his wand, transfiguring the clubs and arrows they held into flowers. Then he grabbed onto the boy and cut the ropes binding him. He knocked out as many as he could with _stupefy_ , as he half carried, half dragged the boy away.

Godric continued to weep ceaselessly as he remembered how terrified Salazar had been of him. Until Godric had introduced him to his parents, Lord and Lady Gryffindor. Then they'd washed, clothed and fed Salazar. They'd given him a place to stay and began to teach him about magic.

They'd adopted him in all but by blood and name.

When Lord Gryffindor had died of dragon pox, and Lady Gryffindor had died of grief, Godric, age seventeen, offered to share Lordship with his brother. Salazar had refused, but the locals had ignored him. To the wizarding world, the Slytherin line was just as noble as the Gryffindor.

How could Godric go back to Hogwarts? It was his own stupidity that had killed his brother. What would he say to Lady Tayte? To Helga? To Rowena? Merlin help him, what would he say to Sammael…should the boy ever awaken. Godric's grief renewed itself, but this time it was for the children he had doomed to grow without a father.

"No," he said hoarsely. "I shall raise them, brother," he promised the corpse. "As if they were my own." The corpse did not answer, which made his tears start once more. That morning, meeting the Mundanes had seemed like a good idea. That had been his first mistake: deciding to go at all. His second mistake had been to send an owl down ahead of him, to peacefully let the Mundanes know that he would be coming, and the he meant well. His third and final mistake, was letting the others know he was going. Had it just been him, Godric would have been the one to suffer, not his brother.

The Mundanes had been ready for them, hiding in the walls that surrounded their town. Godric hadn't seen them, and had been confused as to why the gates were firmly closed. Godric had shrugged, readying his wand to open it himself. That's what an apparition _crack_ alerted him to his brother's presence. "Godric!" Salazar snapped. "What do you think you're doing? You can't _reason with them._ They are nothing but filthy animals!" Salazar turned to glare at the walls. "Animals that should be put down" he hissed,

Godric argued with him, saying that _yes_ they were stupid, and they acted like animals. But only because they didn't know any better. Salazar flew into a rage, forgetting where they were. He called Godric naïve and childish. He said that his son mightn't ever wake because of his magical drain, and that when he did, he might have lost his abilities. He screamed that the Mundanes deserved to be hunted and fed to the acromantula in the Dark Forest. He was so angry at Godric, that his magic had flared up. A tree ten meters away caught fire, pebbles and stones around them started to levitate, but Salazar didn't even seem to notice. He called out for the blood of the Mundanes, which made Godric exasperated. Godric tried to reason with him, but that was when _it_ happened.

A single arrow had been fired when Salazar's magic exploded. One of the Mundanes hiding in the wall had shot it. They didn't even notice…until it had imbedded itself in Salazar's eye. He was dead instantly.

Godric, in his grief, decimated the entire village, sparing only the women and children. It had been quick, but not painless. For the first time in his life, Godric had reveled in the pain of others. And when he came back to himself, returned to his right mind, he'd been horrified at what he'd done. He'd grabbed his brother's body and disapparated. He didn't know where he was, and he honestly didn't really care.

He stayed there with the body that was growing stiffer, until the light of dawn shown over the treetops. By then his anguish had calmed to depression, his tears dried and his heart numb. There was no point in stalling. Salazar was dead. His family deserved to know.

Gods above forgive him, and demons below pity his pain; Sammael was going to hate him.


	10. The End

**Snarry: 68**

 **Harrymort: 85**

 **Threesome: 12**

 **Harry/FemOC: 4**

 **And as for Harry's magical association**

 **Dark: 18**

 **Light: 17**

 **Grey: 51**

 **And this is the last chapter guys, guess we have our winners xD**

 **By the way, I'm looking for some interesting male names for an OC character, though if you have some cool girl names, I'm sure I'd have places to use those in too. Any help with this would be awesome! Thanks in advance!**

 **And, yes, Salazar already made the chamber. I mentioned it offhandedly in previous chapters. I didn't call it the "Chamber of Secrets", because that would be dumb. Salazar doesn't strike me as the "cheesy cliché" type, so I don't think he'd call his own man cave the "Chamber of Secrets". I believe that particular nickname came later. As in, centuries later.**

 **The scar? Overboard? Pshaw!**

 **CeilingCat Faves: I'm glad you took the time to review. You've got an interesting idea there, I think I'll run with that. Thanks xD**

 **May the gods be ever in your favor,**

 **-James**

Sammael woke up with Besnik on his face. He groaned in fond annoyance, shoving the snake off. Besnik fell to the floor with a _thump_ and an angry hiss, which Samael ignored. The sun was shining brightly through his windows, it was a beautiful day outside. He yawned and stretched before sliding out of bed to make his way to the showers. Kai greeted him as he walked past, Sammael stroked his soft feathers as he passed him.

As he stepped out of the shower, feeling refreshed and awake, he summoned his wand, casting a _tempus_ charm. He'd slept in. It was nearly ten in the morning. Sammael frowned, wondering why no one had come to wake him, then his brushed it off. Helga probably told the elves not to bother him, that he was still recovering. Sammael shrugged, deciding that he'd just have to visit her at the infirmary later, to convince her that he was alright.

He pulled a tunic on over his head before slipping his outer robes over his shoulders. He let his hair flow down naturally, tossing his head a bit to get it to lay down all the way. He waved his wand in a grooming spell Helga had taught him, that got rid of the snarls and smoothed the fly-aways.

Sensing that he was getting ready to leave, Besnik wound his way up onto his Master's shoulders, his large body wrapped twice around Sammael's torso before the rest of him draped over the young man's slender frame. Kai fluttered over, alighting on Sammael's head. With a laugh, Sammael let her. Together, they left Sammael's bedroom. The halls were strangely quiet. It was disconcerting. His footfalls seemed louder than normal as they echoed against the vast walls. Sammael couldn't help but feel that something was off this morning, but he couldn't quite tell what.

" ** _There is a strange scent in the air_** ," Besnik noted. Sammael nodded, even though he obviously couldn't smell it for himself. " ** _It's reeks of pain. Someone is in pain._** "

" ** _Who_**?" Sammael asked. Kai perked up, thinking that perhaps his services would be needed.

" ** _I cannot tell_** ," Besnik said after a moment of flicking his tongue in the air. He swiveled his head around, this way and that. " ** _Either a new someone. Or someone who has changed. Or many people at once_**." Besnik turned his face towards the East. In the direction of the Medward. Slowly, pieces started coming together in Sammael's mind as his body sprung into action before his brain had caught up. He broke into a run, startling Kai off of his head. The phoenix flew behind him.

He ran more carelessly and clumsily than he had ever done anything in his life. He cursed and sworn loudly every time he tripped (which was often). Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong, this was something that grew more apparent with each step that Sammael took. Sammael wasn't stupid. Sammael wasn't naïve. Something had happen to Godric and Papa, that's why everything felt off, why they were gone yesterday.

He drew near to the door of the medward, tripping over an empty suit of armor, sending it crashing down. Sammael got up as soon as he hit the floor, ignoring the ache that shot up his leg. Besnik was hissing in annoyance, trying to cover up the worry that he felt over his human's behavior. Sammael reached for the bronze handles of the doors, only to freeze.

Mundanes. Godric had gone to speak with the Mundanes. Papa followed to drag him back. Back away from the same Mundanes that nearly cost Sammael his magic. A tremor started on his hand, working its way up his arm until he was trembling all over. This wasn't right. Why was he acting this way? Ever since the Mundane Incident in Hogsmeade, he wasn't able to see or sense Magic without growing a horrible headache. But he could still feel echoes every now and then. What he was feeling now was almost like an echo—familiar but off. Sammael focused as hard as he could on whatever was behind those doors, fearing what he would see should he open them.

He grew horribly dizzy. He could feel his father, while at the same time knowing that his father wasn't in the medward. Sammael's weak magic pushed feebly against something stronger. A silencing ward. Helga's magic.

Enough was enough. Sammael threw open the doors. Raised voices immediately silenced as four tear stained faces turned slowly to face him. Godric, Helga, Rowena…and Lady Tayte. They were surrounding a single bed. A sheet was pulled over a still form. Sammael drew closer with a determined step, though he wasn't hiding how badly he was trembling. He couldn't possibly hide that. "What's going on?" he asked, he voice deceptively steady.

"Sammael," Helga started to say after a moment of silence. But she as interrupted by Lady Tayte breaking down into sobs, she rushed over to Sammael (as fast as she could with such a large baby belly) and threw her arms around her stepson. Sammael instinctively knew what had happened. It was as though two conflicting persons in his brain were battling it out: one who refused to accept, it; one who knew there was no avoiding reality. He wanted to scream and throw the pregnant woman away from him. He wanted to run out of the room, search for and find his Papa, alive and well. He wanted to break down and cry. But the other half won in the end.

Sammael stopped trembling.

It was as though his body decided it wasn't worth the stress anymore. To an outsider, it would look like he was in denial. Though that wasn't true. He was simply accepting. Not to say that he wasn't torn, that he wasn't dying inside. He was, he'd never been in more pain. Not when Uncle Vernon had broken nearly every bone in his body. Not when he'd been starved for weeks on end. Not when he'd been chained outside in the dead of winter without so much as a shirt. This was a whole different kind of pain, a worse kind of pain, a deeper kind of pain. But it was still pain, and Sammael was no stranger to it. So he did what he'd always done with the pain. He acknowledged it, accepted it, then ignored it and moved on.

All in the space of a second.

As if his bones were replaced with ironwood, and his skin with ice, Sammael steadied. His face was calm, there was no inner turmoil, he was more aware of what was around him than what was inside. Which was saying a lot, because he barely noticed when Godric sank to his knees, explaining and begging his forgiveness. He didn't really notice or care when Helga wrapped her arms around both himself and his stepmother. It didn't register just when Rowena left the room. As for himself, he watched as if through another's eyes, as his arms came around Lucetta. He heard through someone else's ears as he consoled her, comforting her.

It was as though he were in a strange, waking trance. He was deaf, yet hearing. Blind yet seeing. Aware yet just floating through. A deafening silence outweighed the loud cries, the sobs, the wails of emotional agony. A painful numbness nullified any guilt, any remorse, any sense of loss in himself until he simply felt empty. There were tears welling behind his eyes, and yet they didn't fall. His eyes didn't even look wet. They were dry. They were blank. His eyes were opened, but not moving, not really seeing anything. He simply stood here, holding Lady Tayte, who was clinging to him as if her entire world had fallen apart.

"You have two children," Sammael reminded her quietly, in a voice that seemed unshakable. "Two children who need their mother, who don't yet know that their father is gone." Another sob burst from the small woman before she mentally shook herself. With the grace only a Lady of Slytherin could possess, she dried her tears on a handkerchief and put on a blank mask. She gave him a slow nod, before walking out.

Godric was still on his knees, his head in his hands, his shoulder shaking. "…my fault…all my fault…"

"Yes," agreed Sammael, though his voice was blank it was not cold. "As it was my fault. And Helga's fault. And Rowena's fault. We may as well blame Agape while we're at it."

Godric looked up, his face flushed and eyes red. "What?"

"I was injured by mere Mundanes," Sammael said. "This increased my father's ire towards them. Helga was as blunt as ever when delivering the news that I might've lost my magic, a fate worse than death to him. Rowena didn't try hard enough to stop him. She didn't argue when you left for the village. And Agape was the reason I got hurt." Sammael knelt by his uncle, and wrapped his arms around the older man's waist. He leaned heavily against him, his head resting on Godric's chest. "The Mundanes fired the arrow." Sammael said. "It's their fault, not any of ours." Sammael looked up at him. "Do you still truly believe that they aren't evil?"

Godric looked torn. Sammael didn't really want his answer anyway. So when Godric didn't answer, Sammael only went limp in his uncle's grasp. "I forgive you, Uncle" he whispered. Godric's grip tightened drastically at his words. _But I'll never forgive_ _ **them**_ _,_ he added silently in his head. _Never._

***1047***

The funeral was horrible. The sky was a dismal grey, the air cold and wet. The grass was half frozen with early autumn frost. It was drizzling on and off all day. Salazar wouldn't have minded that, but he would have hated how many people showed up.

There must have been thousands of people. None of them looked very sorry for Slytherin's death, except for a select few besides the residence of Hogwarts. Ex-students were among those. Many of the current younger students were bawling. In honor of their professor, every single student, past and present, wore Slytherin Green robes, rather than the customary black. Sammael was glad for this. He felt his Papa would have liked it, if only to rub it in Godric's face how many lions were wearing his color.

***1047***

Selwyn was crying again. Sammael wasted no time in rising out of bed. Lady Tayte just wasn't able to tend to her children like she should have been. Not with her depression. Not with being almost nine months pregnant. The baby was due any day now. Sammael pulled on a warm robe before canceling the monitoring spell he had placed. The room when quiet and Sammael walked at a slightly hurried pace down the steps to the third floor, where his brother's room was. He opened the door and laid down beside the small boy, drawing Selwyn into his arms.

"There, there, rest young one. I'll not let them harm you. Hush now. There, there." Sammael murmured, the words sending pangs through his chest. No emotion but warm affection was allowed to be shown on his face, however. But how many times had Papa murmured the same things into his ear in his youth? "Rest my young one. It's alright, I swear to you. Keep your eyes closed, the pain will soon leave, child."

"Papa…"

Sammael clenched his eyes shut. "I know…"

***1047***

Sammael's bedroom hadn't been an actual bedroom since the birth of his new brother, Salazar Slytherin the Second. A week after the birth, Lady Tayte had taken her children and left for her father's estate. Sammael was the only Slytherin left in these grand…empty…halls. Well, that wasn't so. School had started once more. With Salazar's death, more students than ever flooded for refuge into these walls, his haven of rest. Fear of the Mundanes had grown. By now, everyone knew of the argument between Godric and Salazar, which lead to Slytherin's passing. While Godric still stood by his opinion, that the Mundanes were not to be slaughtered like animals (here, Sammael sneered), all Students at Hogwarts would be protected by any means necessary. Hogsmeade was now a bustling little establishment. More and more wizards and witches moved in every day. Power in numbers, they said. Seems that they were learning from their mistakes.

The Students clad in green had taken to calling them selves "Slytherin's House", when it was discovered that Lady Tayte had "abandoned" Sammael. Everyone knew that Salazar wouldn't have approved of her actions. And so they strove to give Salazar a good name, something that his wife was failing to do. Within but a few short days, they became renowned among Hogwarts, then Hogsmeade, then the rest of Scottia and beyond; The Slytherin House would stop at nothing to avenge their master. Some of the anger was released on Mundane bornes. This was stopped once Sammael pointed out that Salazar himself had been mundane born.

But distrust was growing.

New professors were hired to keep up with the growing number of students. Sammael turned over his classes (Magic Theory and Sensitivity) to a capable witch. Then, he locked himself in his room. There he'd been. He was 22 now. But he felt so much older. In the safety of this place which his father had built for him, Sammael exercised his magic, attempting to bring it up to its former glory. It was slow, but sure.

Not only that, but Sammael began to research Soul Magic. It was a relatively new concept, soul magic was. Not many people studied it. But those that did were unfailingly powerful. Merlin, Morgana, Mordred, and Salazar himself to name a few. The Room brought him anything he needed. Where it came from he didn't know or care. All he wanted to know, was how to bring his Papa back.

Four months past, and he'd all but given up hope. Salazar was dead and buried. And all that Soul Magic offered was ways to bind two souls together, so that one may only live while the other survives. There was a way to prevent departure from the physical plaine, a way to anchor ones soul. But the ritual had to be done before death. Only one thing even held the smallest amount of promise: a relic called the Resurrection Stone. Merlin mentioned a student of his, one of three brothers, who met a stranger on a dark night after conjuring a bridge to cross treacherous waters. It was a time when magic was rare, and scarce. When wizards were feared and revered. The man congratulated them on their magic, saying that all who had preceded them had never managed to cross the river. In return for their strength, he offered them each a gift of their own choosing. They asked and received the three most powerful tools in existence, according to Merlin: An undefeatable wand, a never failing invisible cloak, and a stone that would allow the holder to talk to the dead.

Sammael couldn't care less about an undefeatable wand; he was confident enough in himself, and he knew only a fool would seek to never lose. He had no idea _why_ one would even need an 'invisible cloak'…or what one even was…but the stone…

Sammael set out immediately, seeing no need to notify anyone.

***1047***

He'd found it. He'd actually found it.

He'd found it, and pried it from the cold, dead bones of Cadmus Peverell, who he had discovered was Salazar's own great-great-great-great-great uncle. It was a peculiar stone, black and triangular. A strange crest was clearly seen on the inside, as if held there to be protected from time. The stone was held on an intricate gold band, the size indicating it was obviously meant to fit a man's finger. However, it was much too big for Sammael.

He'd apparated back to the boundaries of the Hogwarts land, disappearing almost immediately into one of the many tunnels that Salazar had made. Secret Exits and hallways, meant only for the two of them. Sammael ignored the pain these halls brought back. He'd see his Papa again soon enough, and then there'd been no reason for tears. Sammael paused, looking down a bend. Eadlin had fallen into a deep sleep after she'd learned from Besnik of her master's death. Sammael wondered if he should try waking her. Rowena said that Basilisk were like Veela: very few things could kill them, a broken heart being one of them. However, Eadlin hadn't died. She'd only sent herself into a stasis like coma. She would awaken one day, Sammael knew. When exactly, he didn't know. Only a parselmouth was able to access these halls. And Salazar had never gotten around to telling Selwyn. And he'd never tell Lady Tayte. It was a men's secret, after all. At least, that's what Papa had told him when he was younger.

Sammael rose out of the depths of the castle, almost running to his chambers. He swept his wand back and forth, thrice. _I need a place of secrecy_ he thought very clearly. The door appeared and Sammael swept inside. It was the room that Papa had shown him on his 10th birthday. When he'd learned the ritual it would take for him to go back to his old time. It was also the very same room he'd been blood adopted in. The room where he'd been fully accepted into his new family…his family which had all but fallen apart. Rowena barely spoke to Godric, instead choosing to travel more and more alone with Lord Hugo de Fole. Helga and Godric were still friendly, but there was a certain warmth that was no longer there.

Sammael took the ring out of the protected pouch he had work around his neck on a string. Then he slid it onto one of his fingers, holding it upright with his other hand. Going by instinct, Sammael called out "Papa?" A figure appeared almost immediately. "Papa!" Sammael cried rushing forward to embrace the man who had given him a second chance at life. But his arms wrapped around nothing but air. "I-I don't understand" Sammael said lamely, looking down at the stone, then back at the translucent face of his father. "What else must I do?"

"The ring can only call forth a spirit," said Salazar kindly. "Not a body." Sammael didn't know what to say, he only stood gazing at his father, wishing beyond all reason that he could feel this man hold him once more, like he had so many times in the past. " ** _My sweet little Snake,"_** said Salazar, reaching out a ghostly hand. Sammael could almost feel him as Salazar lovingly stroked his cheek. He closed his eyes and tried his hardest not to lean into the touch. " ** _I'm so, so very proud of you, my son._** " With that, Sammael cried. He let loose every tear he'd held back these many months. He cried until it hurt to cry, and then he continued unable to stop. Salazar's form kneeled beside him, his arms wrapped around the slender shoulders.

" ** _If I wasn't stupid enough to get hurt_** -" Sammael started helplessly, but a shake of the head from his father was enough to silence him.

" ** _You did what you could, the only way you knew how, even at risk of great personal loss_** ," Salazar said, his eyes gleaming. " ** _And I truly mean it, my dear one. I am proud to claim you as my son."_**

 ** _"Papa, I don't know what to do anymore. This doesn't feel like home. Lady Tayte has gone and taken the little ones. Godric can barely stand to look at me from guilt. Rowena is more distant than ever and Helga always cries…the students have started a feud between the Gryffindors and the Slytherins, one side fighting for the death of all Mundanes, the other for peace. I myself am torn between the sides._** **"**

 ** _"Little Snake,"_** Salazar said, gaining his son's attention once more. " ** _If this is no longer home, find somewhere that can be. Just know, my treasure, that no matter where you go or what you do, that you are my life's greatest achievement. And if I am remembered for nothing more than being your father, I'd be content."_**

 ** _"…I love you Papa"_**

 ** _"And I you, my little Snake. More than life, even in death."_**

***1047***

In the end, Salazar had been at peace with the world. And so was ready to pass on, completely, to the pocket of reality where souls go before they are reborn to be washed in the river Lethe, and rejuvenated in the ether. Letting him go was the greatest test of Sammael's life. And when he had done it, he felt a hundred years older.

That evening found him at Tayte Mansion, in a child's bedroom, holding the trembling form of his little brother. "I'm going away," Sammael said softly. "But I wanted to give you a present first." Selwyn, who seemed to have exhausted all of his tears, looked up at his big brother with mournful eyes.

"What is it" and then "May I go with you?"

"No," said Sammael softly, caressing the soft black hair before pressing his lips to his brother's forehead. "Here." Sammael pressed the resurrection stone/ring into his brother's hand. A chain had been attached to it, so that it could be worn around his neck. "Take very good care of that. It's special."

"How special?"

Sammael only smiled as he hugged the little boy tighter. "Promise to tell little brother about me?"

"I promise"

"You won't forget me?"

"No. Promise."

Sammael made several more visits that night: To Agape, the twins, Helena, Lilith, Lizbeth, Synnove and lastly to his new brother, Salazar. He held the newborn for a long while, singing a soft lullaby, rocking him as he fell asleep.

Sammael wasn't anywhere to be found the next day.

Nor the day after that.

Nor the many, many years that followed. Though the loyalty that his students held for him was strong, and it took a full twenty years before nearly everyone accepted that, in grief, he'd probably taken his own life. Nearly everyone, that is. Selwyn never forgot. Helena never doubted. And Agape always hoped.

The End


	11. Chapter 11

Alright guys, so here's the thing

I'm not doing a sequel….

.

.

.

I'm doing two. At once.

You see, I'd feel bad if I chose Harrymort OR Snarry, because so many people expressed real arguments for both. And I'm sorry for those of you who wanted a threesome…I'm not sure If I'm ready as a writer for that. So, instead, I'm going to do two sequels. Both are possible continuations of this story, one is a Harrymort. One is a Snarry. If you still aren't happy with that, well, I'm sorry. But I hope that most of you are!

Both are already up, so please go and enjoy them! Love you guys, hope you continue to like my work! The names of the sequels are (For Snarry) "The Walking Horcrux" and (For Harrymort) "Thick Walls, Thicker Bonds". You can either look them up by title or from my profile page. If you have any troubles locating it, PM me.

May the gods be ever in your favor,

James


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